


to flirt with sharp and heartless things

by problematiclesbian



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Unrequited Love, feat. hope “thinks she’s the top” mikaelson and penelope “in charge the entire time” park, to be clear ONLY HOPE/PENELOPE is endgame in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 94,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiclesbian/pseuds/problematiclesbian
Summary: “Is there any scenario where this doesn’t end in disaster?”“This” being: Hope is in love with Lizzie and is best friends with Josie, and Josie is Lizzie’s twin sister and Penelope’s ex girlfriend, and Penelope is still in love with Josie but is sleeping with Hope, who still hates Penelope, no matter what anyone else might say.This is why it’s easier to just never care about anyone.Hope thinks.She puts her head down on the table with a thunk. “No. This is so fucked up.”Penelope just laughs.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park, unrequited hizzie & posie but i’m removing it from the tags
Comments: 367
Kudos: 857





	1. part one: as beautiful as she is terrible

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i have never in my entire life seen a single episode of legacies. i'm not being sarcastic, i really haven't. so don't expect like.. any continuity or anything  
set vaguely at the start of season two, but nothing after episode 14 of season 1 happened. Penelope didn't leave, no one forgot Hope, etc. It's a new school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all really be sleeping on this ship, huh?

> _Its okay to hang upside-down like a bat,_  
_to swim into the deep end of silence,_  
_to swallow every key so you can’t get out._  
_It’s okay to hear the ocean calling your fevered name_
> 
> _to say your sorrow is an opera of snakes,_  
_to flirt with sharp and heartless things._   
_It’s okay to write, I deserve everything,_  
_to bow down to this rotten thing_  
_that understands you, to adore the red_  
_and ugly queen of it, to admire_  
_her calm and steady rowing._

* * *

“Well well well. The great Hope Mikaelson, pining? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

Hope turns around to see Penelope Park leaning against the wall in a pose that would look awkward for anyone else. But it’s not just anyone else. 

“I’m not _ pining _.” The word tastes bad in her mouth. 

“Pining, yearning, whatever.” Penelope waves a hand lazily. “It’s not a good look for you. Which is a shame, because,” she lets her eyes drop and roam over Hope’s body. “You have so _ many _ good looks.” 

Penelope will have to be more than her usual flirtatious self to phase Hope. “Fuck off, Penelope.” 

But of course, Penelope doesn’t. “And Lizzie, of all people? I mean, let’s have some taste.” 

Hope wonders if it’s even worth denying. She must be in too deep, if even Penelope can see it. Instead, she turns back to the hallway so she doesn’t have to look the other girl in the eyes and deflects. “As if you aren’t here to ‘yearn’ after your Saltzman?” 

Penelope rolls her eyes. “She’s not _ my _ Saltzman.” 

“Not anymore, she isn’t.” 

“Oh, you wound me so.” Penelope presses a palm over her heart as she saunters closer, leaning on Hope’s shoulder despite Hope’s attempt to shove her off. “What happened to you and that Landon kid?” 

Hope watches Lizzie laugh at something her boy of the week says and feels her heart clench. “Nothing. I wasn’t into it.” 

Penelope snorts. “Clearly.” 

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” Penelope and Hope may have vanquished those zombies together, but Hope is, and always will be, a lone wolf- no pun intended. A new school year doesn’t change that. 

“Oh but Mikaelson, baby, I always have time for you.” Penelope lets her voice drop into a husky murmur as she speaks into Hope’s ear, and Hope is annoyed to find herself fighting back a visible shiver at the sound. 

“Fuck off, Park. Seriously.” 

Penelope turns towards the scene at the lockers that Hope had been observing from a distance. “You should at least go talk to her, instead of staring from a distance. I mean, I know you’re part vampire, but this is very Edward Cullen of you.” 

“A Twilight reference. How original.” 

Penelope makes a noise of agreement. “Alright, it wasn’t my best. How about-” 

Hope isn’t really listening because she’s watched Lizzie put her hand on the guy’s arm and step closer. She just wants to be able to brood in silence, and she knows what will get Penelope to leave her alone. She cuts Penelope off. “Sorry, was it not clear that I don’t care? No wonder Josie always says you’re insufferable.” 

It’s like a drop of rain falling onto the surface of a pool. There’s a brief ripple of pain across Penelope's face at Hope’s jab and then it’s gone, and her steady smirk is firmly in place, smooth as glass. 

“So the wolf has some bite.” Penelope almost sounds impressed. “Tell Alaric he should give you a lesson on how to hold a civil conversation.”

“I would hardly call you civil.” Hope replies as Penelope brushes past her. 

“See you around, Mikaelson.” 

“I hope not.” She shoots back, but Penelope is already gone. 

* * *

She doesn’t see Penelope again until Friday. 

Hope is searching the shelves in the back of the library for a book with a spell that she’s certain will help with hunting this week’s monster. She’s looking down, paging through a worn copy of _ Offensive Spells for The Modern Witch _, when she trips over something at the end of the aisle. 

The ‘something’ turns out to be Penelope Park’s foot, dangling in the walkway because Penelope is stretched out in an armchair, her legs folded over the arm of the chair. 

Penelope glances up from her book, looking amused at Hope sprawled on the floor. She does not offer to help Hope up- not that Hope would accept her help, anyway. “Let me guess: Do I have a band aid, cause you scraped your knee falling for me?” 

Hope pushes off the ground with a huff. “Are all your pick up lines that bad? No wonder you’re hiding alone in the library.” 

“I’m not _ hiding. _” Penelope says, in a way that Hope just knows is mocking her own tone from their previous conversation. “Sometimes I just like to get away from it all. It’s tough being so popular, you know. Or I guess, you don’t know, huh?”

“Ugh, we get it.” Hope picks up her book from the floor and straightens the cover. “I’m a loner, I have no friends. You really need to get some new material, Park.”

“Well, this is the most we’ve spoken since the Night of the Living Dead incident, so excuse me for not having more quips ready.” Penelope closes her book and sets it to the side, grinning. 

There’s something satisfying yet frightening about getting Penelope’s full attention, Hope thinks, like making eye contact with a lion and then noticing the cage door is open. Or whatever the scary equivalent of a lion would be to someone who can literally turn into a wolf. Then Hope realizes she’s spent too long thinking about this metaphor instead of an excuse to get out of the conversation. 

“So.” Penelope props her chin on her fist. “Come here often?” 

“It’s the school library.” Hope replies, in the most inflectionless tone she can manage. 

Penelope shakes her head mockingly, her voice lazy. “Tsk tsk. Come on, Mikaelson. How are you ever going to seduce Lizzie with these hopeless conversation skills?” 

“I’m not trying to-” Hope looks over her shoulder for eavesdroppers and lowers her voice, “_ seduce _ anyone.” 

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” Penelope asks, and then continues before Hope can say no, “If you want to date Lizzie Saltzman, you should probably try actually talking to her sometimes.”

Hope manages a scoffs as she sits down in the chair across from Penelope. Discussing Lizzie tends to have a dizzying effect on her. “Why would I take relationship advice from you? You can’t spend five minutes with Josie without pissing her off.” 

“At least she’s thinking about me, which is more than you can say about Lizzie.” 

“Hey, if I wanted to be eating lunch with them right now, I could. You’d be cold-shouldered before you even got to the table.”

Penelope lifts one eyebrow. “So why aren’t you?” She spreads her hands wide, indicating the space around them. 

At this point, Hope thinks she’s lost today’s battle of banter, but she forges on. “Some people have more important things to do than flirt.” Her tone makes it clear she does not think Penelope is one of those people. She holds up her book. “I’m trying to find a spell. For…” She pauses. For a moment, she’d forgotten Penelope wasn’t someone to be trusted. “For something.” She finishes lamely. 

“And you didn’t think to ask me, the most powerful witch in school?” 

“Why would I ask you? You don’t help anyone but yourself.” 

Penelope tilts her head to acknowledge the point. “Ah. Touche ́. But I could always be…” She lets her gaze drag over Hope’s body. “Persuaded.” 

“Aaand I’m leaving.” Hope picks up her books and walks away, Penelope’s laughter following her as she goes. 

* * *

Something must be seriously wrong.

Hope is usually a pretty good judge of when something is amiss, and that’s why she knows something in the universe is fucked up: because Penelope Park keeps trying to hang out with her. 

Hope’s in class? Penelope slides into the usually-empty-desk next to her. Hope’s in her room avoiding a party? Penelope knocks on her bedroom door and tries to convince her to come out with her and her harem of girls. Hope’s outside running laps? Penelope sits on the sidelines and heckles her until Hope stops to talk. 

In fact, the only time Penelope Park isn’t around is when Hope is with Josie.

Which Hope is grateful for, because she doesn’t know _ how _ she would explain to Josie why Hope and Josie’s ex exchange banter like they’re friends or something. Which they definitely are not. It’s just that Hope doesn’t hang out with anyone really, now that she and Landon are done and she’s too awkward to be around Lizzie. It’s dangerous to be her friend. It’s easier for everyone if Hope keeps everyone at arm’s length. And she doesn’t want any friends, anyway, and if she did, she certainly wouldn’t want them to be Penelope Park. But Penelope keeps finding her and for some reason, Hope can’t bring herself to send the witch away.

Like right now. 

They’ve been sitting in the library in silence, reading, ostensibly, for the last thirty minutes. But Hope hasn’t read a single word because she keeps trying to figure out what Penelope’s angle is. 

Finally, she slams her book shut. “Are you gonna tell me what the hell you’re doing?” 

“I know you’re not the most powerful witch in school, Hope,” Penelope doesn’t look up from her book as she replies, “but surely even _ you _ can tell I’m reading.” 

“I’m literally the world’s only tribrid.” Hope replies, annoyed, but she sees the glimmer of amusement in Penelope’s eyes and realizes her reaction is what Penelope is aiming for. “Whatever. You know what I mean. Why do you keep hanging out with me?” 

“I don’t know if I would call this ‘hanging out’.” Penelope says dryly, peering at Hope from behind the book. “It’s more like, two people existing in the same space at the same time.” 

“Okay, then _ why _ do you keep existing in my space?!” 

“Actually, you’re existing in _ my _ space.” 

“God. Is there a reason you have to make every conversation absolutely excruciating?” 

Penelope finally shuts her book. “So many questions today. You know, you’re not the first girl to find me so fascinating.” 

“Penelope.” Hope snaps. “Why. Do. You. Keep. Hanging. Out. With. Me.” 

Penelope opens her mouth with what will clearly be another flirty line or insult, but she must see something in Hope’s expression that stops her. She sighs and looks off to the side. 

“I’m trying to stop bothering Josie.” She mutters, her voice as glum as Hope’s ever heard her. “I don’t know what to do with all this free time.” 

Hope doesn’t quite manage to tamper her expression of surprise into something less obvious. “So you decided to bother_ me _?! You know I hate you, right?”

“We’re both in the same predicament, Mikaelson.” Penelope makes a show of looking around the empty library. “And it’s not like I’m taking your attention from anyone else.” 

Hope’s mouth twists in distaste. “I’d rather not have any similarities to you. And did it occur to you that I’m alone all the time because I _ want _ to be alone?” 

Penelope’s brow furrows, just a little. “Okay. Then tell me to leave.”

Hope can’t believe it, but she hesitates. “I... Leave!” 

Penelope waves her words away. “You don’t really mean that.” 

“Yes, I really do.” 

Penelope sighs. “Listen. We don’t have to be friends. You don’t even have to like me. Although you’d probably be the first girl in the history of the world to not-”

“Penelope.”

“Right. You don’t even have to like me. But is it really so difficult to put up with my presence?”

“Yes.” 

She turns to face Hope directly. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Yes, I do.” Hope says, twisting her voice into something vicious, something that will hurt. “You’re selfish and you’re crude and I don’t want to sit here and be your shoulder to cry on just because you fucked up your relationship with the one person who could tolerate you!” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wants to take them back, but it’s too late. 

Penelope actually flinches. 

“I see.” She says, standing up. Hope waits for another quip, but Penelope picks up her books. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.” 

And then she just... leaves. 

Hope doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

_ It’s better this way _. Hope reminds herself.

But for some reason, it feels like a hollow victory. 

* * *

The following week is a constant mental argument with herself. 

It’s just that Hope can’t get Penelope’s hurt expression, however brief, out of her head. Sure, she dislikes Penelope, but that didn’t mean she had to be as mean as she was. But also, it’s _ Penelope Park _; She has like, every girl in school at her beck and call. Surely one ill-spirited comment from Hope meant nothing in the scheme of things, right? 

And like, Hope is used to being alone. She really shouldn’t feel Penelope’s absence so acutely. 

“Two weeks of being followed around and you got used to it, huh?” Hope mutters to herself. 

Like on Wednesday: She’s hovering by the lockers, trying to work up the courage to go talk to Lizzie, and she sees Penelope across the hall, watching Josie with what Hope can unfortunately only describe as _ longing _. A classmate walks by and Penelope snaps out of it, and when she does, she looks away from Josie and makes eye contact with Hope. 

Hope isn’t sure what she’s expecting- a smug look, a raised eyebrow, something- but Penelope just blinks and turns away, disappearing down the hall. 

Hope decides it’s not a good day to talk to Lizzie.

-

Another day, another monster Alaric needs her to defeat. 

She doesn’t really mind. It’s better to have something to do, and when she’s fighting, she’s not thinking. The dull throb of the bruises afterwards are comforting, normal. The ache reminds Hope she’s alive. 

Tonight, though, she’s tired, the pound of her head too loud, her senses grating. 

Hope is almost to her room when she pauses. Unlike most of the problems that haunt her thoughts, there is one that has a solution. She’ll stop by Penelope’s room, apologize, Penelope will be a bitch about it, and everything will be back to normal. Yes. Then she can stop feeling guilty about it. 

Hope makes her way to Penelope’s room, surprised that she knows where it is at all. She must have walked here with Josie, or something. By the time she gets there though, she’s regretting it. 

Hope knocks. She waits one second. “Okay, well, I tried.” She turns to go. 

Before she can leave, she heard the click of the door opening, and there’s Penelope, clad in pajamas shorts that are probably illegal and a t shirt for a band that Hope doesn’t recognize. She takes one look at Hope and raises an eyebrow. 

“Hey.” Hope mutters, stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, letting her hands curl into fists. 

Penelope blinks a few times. “You look like shit.”

Hope looks down at her battle-worn clothes. “Occupational hazard.” 

She waits for her to say something, but Penelope just nods. She’s not wearing makeup, Hope realizes, and it makes the brunette look softer, less like the temptress she usually is. 

When Hope can’t bring herself to speak, Penelope leans against the doorway and crosses her arms. “Did you need something? It’s late.” 

Hope looks around the empty hallway. “...Can I come in?”

Penelope pauses long enough that Hope has time to regret everything she’s ever done that led up to this point. Then she steps back, leaving the door open. Hope isn’t sure if that’s a welcome or a dismissal.

“Well? Are you coming?” 

Hope jumps a little and follows Penelope into her room.

Penelope’s room is the same size as everyone else’s, but feels bigger, probably because it’s filled to the ceiling with… stuff. Not junk, exactly, but an array of mismatched items that Hope would have to spend all day analyzing to make sense of. Some of it, Hope expected- there’s a collection of makeup sprawled across the vanity, of course, and textbooks stacked in a haphazard pile on the floor, a cape dangling off the desk chair. 

But the rest surprises her: Surrounding the mirror are faded polaroids, a younger Penelope smirking in each one, grouped with people Hope doesn’t know. There’s fairy lights strung along the top of the walls, a decoration so warm and out of line with Penelope’s character that Hope wonders if Josie put them up and Penelope just hadn’t found the strength to take them down. They lend a soft glow over the room, over the art hung on the wall. There’s a chalkboard, covered in pastel, handwritten messages, and more books than Hope would have guessed, overflowing from the bookshelf and onto the window sill, the desk, the worn rug on the floor, covering what probably was at some point a couch. And plants, so many plants, resting in any free space to be found, the leaves all shifting towards the windows, towards the light. Hope spots several crudely-done children’s drawings pinned above the desk and realizes she’s seeing a vulnerable part of Penelope that not many before her have witnessed. She wonders why Penelope let her in at all. 

“Why do you have so many plants? Is this a witch thing?” Hope steps cautiously over a vine that is stretched out on the floor, tangling down from the top of the bookshelf. She doesn’t have to look up to know Penelope is rolling her eyes- that’s why she made the comment in the first place. There’s something satisfying about provoking Penelope into reaction. 

“Do I come into your room and ask you if you have a lot of bowls because it’s a dog thing?” 

Hope starts to point out that she would never let Penelope into her room, then remembers that she’s supposed to be here to apologize. 

“I’m just surprised.” 

Penelope drops onto her bed, tucking her legs beneath her. “What did you expect? A cave? A sex dungeon?” 

Hope removes some stray papers from the desk chair so she can sit, turning the chair backwards to cross her arms over the top and prop her chin up. She feels better with something between her and Penelope, like armor. “I don’t know. It’s very… cozy.” 

“Well, I don’t go home for the holidays.” Penelope says, as if that answers anything, instead of just creating more questions. 

“It’s nice.” 

Penelope looks distinctly uncharmed. “I assume you didn’t come for decorating tips. Why are you here, Mikaelson?” 

“I… wanted to apologize.” Hope starts. This is not her area of expertise. She licks her lips and swallows.

“Mhm.” 

“For telling you to leave. You weren’t… you weren’t bothering me. And I was rude.” 

“Yes.” Penelope agrees. 

“So.. yeah. I’m sorry. Or whatever.” 

Penelope presses her lips together to hide what Hope suspects is amusement at Hope’s awkward apology attempt. “Hmm… well, apology accepted. Thanks for stopping by.” 

Hope frowns a little. “That’s it? You’re not going to like.. make me grovel, or something? No quip about me showing you how sorry I really am? Nothing?” 

“Are you _ asking _me to flirt with you?” 

“No! I just… so we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Penelope says, picking at an invisible piece of lint on the bedspread beneath her. 

Hope narrows her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Penelope looks up at her in an entirely too demure way. “What do you mean?” Something about her posture is wrong- the tilt of her shoulders, maybe, Hope isn’t sure. 

Hope instinctively leans back. “You’re being weird. Why are you being weird?” 

“It’s just…” Penelope twirls a strand of hair around one finger and shrugs. “You know, if you wanted to make it up to me…”

“‘If I wanted to’...” Hope echoes, and then her mouth drops open. “Oh my god. You’re not even mad, are you? You’re playing me! I’m being played!” 

A smirk threatens to break Penelope’s facade, but she holds it back. She looks at her nails and shrugs. “I’m just saying… I do need a favor…”

“Oh my god.” Hope drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe you.” 

Penelope rolls onto the floor at Hope’s feet, clasping her hands together in prayer. “Please, Mikaelson? It’ll be so quick, I swear.”

“Were you even mad the other day? Was this all a set up??” Hope isn’t even upset at being tricked, because she’s busy being flabbergasted that she fell for it in the first place. She really thought Penelope Park, master of manipulation, who only cares about herself, was upset by Hope’s outburst. 

“Technicalities!” Penelope drawls, standing up and going to rummage through her closet. “You were mean, and now you owe me, so…”

Hope heaves a deep sigh. Better this than going back to her empty room. “Fine. What is it?”

Penelope turns to her with a wicked grin. 

-

“You know, I think maybe Lizzie is right.” 

“Well, you’re biased, but okay. About what?” 

“You really are a bad influence.” Hope whispers as they creep down the dark corridors to Alaric’s office. “And when we get caught, I’m blaming this all on you.”

“We’re not going to get caught.” Penelope mutters, her gaze concentrated on the door. Hope realizes belatedly that Penelope is unlocking the door with magic, because a second later, they’re inside Alaric’s office. 

“Have you done this before?” Hope eyes the witch suspiciously. 

“Now is not the time for twenty questions. Come on.” Penelope tugs Hope to the desk and waves a hand over the surface. 

Nothing happens. 

“Nothing happened.” Hope points out. 

“Thank you, Mikaelson. Why are you even in school when your powers of deduction are so strong?” Penelope hisses. “It’s charmed, obviously. Some sort of magical code I can’t break.” 

Hope isn’t going to let this opportunity slip by. “So… you’re saying you need my help because I’m better at magic than you?” 

“That is absolutely not what I’m saying.” 

Hope crosses her arms. “Then just do it yourself.”

Penelope practically growls, but Hope just stands there, smug. 

“Fine. In this one instance, this one time, you happen to have more specific knowledge about this one thing.” Penelope grits out. “So can you please, just open the desk?” 

Satisfied, Hope gets to work, muttering as she tests the strength of the lock. 

As she works, Penelope gets more and more restless, pacing the confines of the room. 

After twenty tense minutes, there’s a click. “Got it!” Hope says triumphantly, sliding the drawer open. “What’s in here that’s so important anyway?” 

Penelope elbows Hope out of the way so she can look through the files. “None of your business… Ah.” She wretches a thick folder from the pack and Hope glimpses the name written in capital letters on the side. 

“We broke into the headmaster’s heavily locked office so you could look through your own file??”

“I know you think you know everything, Mikaelson, but you don’t, so don’t strain your pretty little head trying to figure me out.” Penelope pulls a seemingly random sheet out of stack, her eyes bright with victory. “Got it.” 

There’s a thump from the hallway. 

The two girls look at each other. “Oh, shit.” 

Penelope hastily shoves the rest of the files back where they belong while Hope resets the magic on the lock. 

“Now what?” 

“Don’t look at me, you’re the master planner. I’m just the unwilling accomplice.”

“That’s not what the police will think.” Penelope hisses. She pushes open the window. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re going to jump out the window?” Hope looks doubtfully at the ground below them. 

“We’re on the first floor!” 

“If the window was unlocked, why did we go through all the trouble of sneaking in the doors?” 

“Now is not the time to question the narrative elements, Mikaelson!” Penelope shoves Hope out the window. 

Hope lands with a thump, her fall softened only by the bushes, and a second later Penelope lands, her fall softened by Hope. 

“Gah, get off me.” Hope rolls Penelope off of her and into another bush.

Penelope spits a leaf out of her mouth. “Chivalry is dead, I guess.” 

Hope aims a kick towards the Penelope-shaped-lump in the darkness. “Did you get your stupid paper?” 

Penelope holds up one crinkled piece of paper and snaps her fingers- the paper bursts into flame and blows away as ash. 

“All that so you could burn a piece of paper?!” Hope hisses as they clamber out of the bushes. “And you won’t even tell me what it was??” 

“Mikaelson, your obsession with me is flattering, but doomed to end in heartbreak. Stop asking so many questions.” 

Hope grinds her teeth together. “Fine. Are we even now, at least?”

Penelope stops at the door to her room and grins. “We were even once you apologized, but now we’re really even.” 

Hope wants nothing more than to get to her room and pass out; trying to understand Penelope Park is giving her a headache. “God, I hate you.” She mutters, and Penelope just laughs. 

“Are you-” Hope shakes her head. “Never mind. Goodnight, Park. If anyone asks, I was never here.” 

She’s halfway down the hallway before Penelope replies. “Library tomorrow?”

Hope turns around. “What?” 

“I’ll meet you in the library tomorrow? You know, to exist in the same space?” Penelope is looking at her with that unsettlingly piercing gaze, like she can tell that Hope wasn’t sure if she’d come back. 

“I mean… I guess I can’t stop you.” Hope tries and fails to sound nonchalant. 

Penelope rewards her with a ghost of a smile. “Goodnight, Tribrid. Hope you dream about me.” She punctuates her statement with a wink, and Hope rolls her eyes as she heads back to her room, her heart feeling surprisingly light. 

* * *

So a new routine is formed. Hope Mikaelson and Penelope Park don’t suddenly become best friends, obviously, but Hope no longer tenses up when Penelope drops her stuff in a heap and sits next to Hope in the library or eyes her phone suspiciously when Penelope sends ten different poorly edited photos of Hope and Lizzie together. 

She doesn’t really _ get it _, though. She doesn’t get why Penelope’s chosen her, when Hope is pretty sure there are a hundred different girls at Salvatore that would love to comfort Penelope during her ‘heartbreak’; Hope’s not even very good at commiserating. At least half of their conversations are just Penelope rambling about how good Josie looked today, then Hope rolling her eyes and saying Lizzie looked better. But whatever. She’s not going to chase Penelope away. Part of her thinks Penelope will eventually get tired of this, anyway. 

Hope wouldn’t call Penelope a friend, but she can admit it’s nice to have an ally- someone else who knows what it feels like to be heartbroken over a Saltzman sister. That doesn’t mean it’s not the weirdest hate-relationship Hope’s ever been a part of. 

Like when Hope is struck speechless after seeing Lizzie play quarterback in the annual football game and Penelope teases her about it for a week. The number of football-related innuendos that the witch comes up with is obscene. But it’s okay because Hope gets to tease her just as much the following week when she finds Penelope in her room writing a poem about Josie’s eyes. 

“Wow, can’t believe I’ve been hanging out with the next Shakespeare and I didn’t even know it!” Hope dances out of Penelope’s furious reach and starts reading out loud: “‘In the sunlight, they are golden like the- Ack!” She cuts off when Penelope elbows her in the stomach, hard, and then Hope dissolved into giggles. 

“Fuck off, Mikaelson.” Penelope snatches the paper out of Hope’s hands and throws herself dramatically onto her bed. 

“I didn’t even know you _ could _ blush!” Hope crows, delighted because it’s so rare for her to have the upper hand. 

“I think I liked it better when you hated me.” Penelope says, her voice muffled by the pillow she’s covering her face with, though that doesn’t cover the flush creeping up the back of her neck. 

“I still hate you.” Hope says back, immediate. 

Penelope throws the pillow at her, missing completely. “Well, you used to be quieter about it.” 

Hope scoffs. “I’m always quiet. You’re the one who’s constantly talking! What I wouldn’t give for ten minutes of silence…” 

Penelope sits up, that worryingly devious smirk on her face. “Yeah? I bet I can be quiet longer than you.”

“What are we, five?” She should know better than to indulge Penelope’s teasing, and yet.. 

Penelope shrugs. “I mean, if you don’t think you can do it…” 

Before this, Hope had been half heartedly leafing through a textbook and thinking about an essay she should be writing, and she’s just bored, okay? That’s why she meets Penelope’s challenging gaze with one of her own and says, “Seriously? Okay, fine.”

Penelope licks her lips in anticipation and Hope feels her heartbeat quicken. “What does the winner get?” 

“Not the winner. Loser…” Hope swallows. Why is her throat suddenly so dry? “Loser has to ask their Saltzman to the Miss Mystic Falls pageant.” 

Her opponent raises an eyebrow. “They’re not _ our _Saltzmans. And that’s like six months from now.” 

“Then you should have plenty of time to think of a way to ask Josie when you lose.” Hope says as sweetly as she can manage, and Penelope’s eyes narrow. 

“Fine. Ready? Go.” 

Hope turns back to her book and smirks. Penelope always has something to say; it’s one of her most- _ endearing? _her mind suggests and she dismisses it- annoying traits. No way will she be able to stay quiet for long. 

After about two minutes, there's a movement out of the corner of her eye, but Hope doesn’t look up, certain it’s just Penelope trying to trick her. She continues to stare down stubbornly at her book even as she sees Penelope wander into her vision. Penelope lowers herself onto the couch next to Hope.

But maybe “next to” is incorrect, because Penelope isn’t so much next to Hope as she is half on top of her, her body pressed against Hope’s side, and Hope is so shocked by the move that she doesn’t move while Penelope plucks the book out of her hand and tosses it to the other side of the couch. 

Hope opens her mouth to say _ what the fuck are you doing, Park? _ but then remembers she can’t speak. She settles for a strong glare. 

Penelope tilts her head a little, that glint in her eyes clear as day:  _ Tell _ _ me to stop and I will. _

Hope swallows hard as her pulse speeds up and she considers for the first time that she may have made a mistake in challenging Penelope Park. Still, she’s not a quitter, so she just crosses her arms and looks pointedly away from the other girl. 

Maybe the real issue is that she, for some stupid reason, had really thought Penelope would play fair. This notion is quickly dispelled, however, after she feels Penelope shift away from her and Hope allows herself to smirk in victory, thinking Penelope is giving up on her tactic, when something purple flies across her vision. Hope frowns, looking at the floor to see what it is and- 

It’s Penelope’s shirt.

In retrospect, of course it’s Penelope’s shirt. Like, what else would it be? Hope thinks, a little manically, and then her mind is really, truly going blank for a minute because a shirtless Penelope Park is nimbly climbing onto her lap and effectively straddling her. 

Hope just barely manages to suppress the squeak of surprise, her hands going instinctively to Penelope’s hips to steady her and then, as soon as she realizes what she’s doing, pulling her hands away as if burned. 

It would take no effort at all for her to push Penelope off, so Hope really doesn’t know why she hesitates. Maybe it’s because that would be like letting Penelope win this game they’re playing. But there’s so much skin on display- it takes a herculean effort for Hope to let her hands drop uselessly to the couch instead of setting them on Penelope’s thighs.Penelope is looking at Hope with a barely suppressed smirk, clearly waiting for Hope to say something and Hope keeps her eyes glued to Penelope’s, refusing to look elsewhere, even though she’s hyper aware of the smooth dip of Penelope’s chest just out of reach-

She bites her lip, hard, to stop herself from following that train of thought. And it’s not like she’s actually attracted to _ Penelope _, she’s not, obviously, but she is only human (as far as the expression goes, anyway), so Hope can’t be blamed for the way her breath hitches in her throat when Penelope’s gaze drops to her lips. 

Both the temperature and the tension in the room seem to increase exponentially and Hope mentally pleads with herself to focus, to think of anything else other than how close Penelope is and how she should be disgusted but instead is filled with a hot pulse of want and her heart is pounding so hard that she suspects Penelope can hear it even without werewolf senses and Penelope leans forward and Hope feels the wet heat of her mouth hovering at her throat-

“Okay!” Hope’s voice comes out embarrassingly high as she shoves Penelope off and stumbles away from the couch. “Alright! You win!” She rubs a hand over her face to try to dispel her blush and gropes blindly for Penelope’s shirt on the floor, throwing it at her with perhaps more force than necessary. 

Penelope is near breathless with laughter but still manages to pull her shirt back on. Hope huffs and picks up the first book she finds on the floor, sits down at Penelope’s desk, and promptly goes back to ignoring Penelope.

Penelope, to her credit, seems to have a good sense of how far Hope can be teased. Once she manages to stop cackling, she lets it drop and instead cajoles Hope into going with her to pillage a snack from the kitchens. But even so, hours later, when Hope closes her eyes she can still feel the ghost of Penelope’s mouth at her skin. 

It takes her hours to fall asleep. 

* * *

“Careful, _ Penny _,” How Hope manages to make a nickname sound like a curse word is beyond Penelope’s comprehension, but she appreciates it nonetheless. “You turn up so often these days, one might start to think you’re seeking out my company.” 

“Michaelson, my dear, I have been accused of many terrible things,” Penelope drops down next to Hope, folding her legs beneath her as she sizes up her redhead, “But never of enjoying your company.”

Penelope ends up hanging out with Hope two or three times a week, though never in front of anyone else, for obvious reasons. She’s not doing that bad with her pledge to stop bothering Josie- they’ve only had like, one argument in the middle of the hallway this week. Which Hope appreciates, if only because she feels guilty when she’s listening to Josie rant about Penelope’s antics, knowing she’ll probably be see Penelope later that same day. She’s not going to defend Penelope in front of the Saltzmans, especially since it would piss Lizzie off to no end. 

“So there’s a party tonight-” Penelope starts as soon as she’s settled.

“Nope.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.” 

Hope knows better than to look up and be faced with the Penelope Pout. “You were gonna try to get me to come to the party.”

“Yeah, but-”

“And then you’re going to tell me Lizzie will be there so I should go too.” 

Penelope gives a long suffering sigh. “Would it kill you to go out once in a while?” 

“It might.” Hope says mildly, looking faintly amused as Penelope groans and falls over. One of these days the librarian is going to ban Penelope from the library and Hope is going to laugh when it happens. 

“Mikaelsonnnnnnnn.”

Hope pokes at Penelope with her foot until Penelope stops laying over the arm of the chair in anguish or whatever. “Park, I have no desire to trail after you and your admirers to the mill and then get ditched after ten minutes.” 

“What!” Penelope presses one hand to her chest in mock horror. “I resent such implications! I wouldn’t ditch you. If anything, I would help you. I could be your wing woman!” 

“The great Penelope Park is going to help someone other than herself for the first time? Maybe I _ am _ the chosen one.” 

Penelope snorts but doesn’t disagree. “So you’ll come?” 

“Absolutely not. Plus, you’re the _ last _ person I would pick to advocate me to Lizzie. She hates you.” 

Penelope waves a hand dismissively. “Psh. You hate me too, but here we are!” 

“Touché.” Hope turns back to her book. “But I’m still not coming to the party.” 

Penelope gives another long sigh. “You just wait. I’ll get you one of these days, Mikaelson.” 

Hope just shakes her head, though privately she can see the truth in that statement. 

* * *

It’s a bad day. 

Hope wakes up feeling low, the remnants of a nightmare about her father’s death still swirling in the back of her mind. It sets the tone for the rest of the day- she’s anxious and unsettled. At lunch, she sits with the Saltzmans because Lizzie’s presence usually cheers her up, but even that doesn’t help. She ends up provoking Lizzie into an argument while Josie looks on disapprovingly. She doesn’t even remember what they fought about, really, only that Lizzie had been looking at her with _ affection _ in her eyes and Hope had felt the cold chill of panic down her spine and knew she needed to distance herself. 

The rest of classes are a slow, torturous grind that have Hope ready to tear her hair out by the end of the day. Everything fucking _ hurts _ and she doesn’t know what to do about it. She thinks she might feel better if she could shift to her wolf form and run, but Hope knows she’d need permission, and then Alaric will want to talk about things, and she really can’t do that. 

So she does the next best thing and hitchhikes to the grungy bar on the outside of town. It takes a stupid amount of alcohol to get her drunk, so she usually doesn’t bother. But hey, desperate times, desperate measures. 

And she’s fully funded tonight. 

Hope slides the stolen amex card to the waitress, gives her drink order, and hunches down in a booth that she plans to stay in for the rest of the night, drinking until she’s numb, until her mind is floaty and out of focus. She keeps her head down so she doesn’t have to see the pity in anyone else’s eyes.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed before she hears the groan of the old vinyl as someone slides into the booth next to her. Hope doesn’t take her eyes off her glass. She’s trying to find the energy to finish her drink. “How’d you find me?”

“I tracked my credit card charges.” Penelope says dryly, but not quite as angry as Hope expected her to sound, so she’ll count it as a win. 

“I knew I should’ve taken the cash.” 

“Mhm.” They lapse into silence as the waitress brings over a glass of water for Penelope. Penelope edges it into Hope’s vision, the glasses clinking. 

“Not thirsty.” 

“Hope.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

Penelope scoffs. “Oh, you prefer the nicknames now?” 

“I’d prefer you didn’t talk to me at all.” 

Penelope leans back against the booth. “Didn’t we already have this argument? You hate me, I got it. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you drink yourself to death in this shitty bar.”

“Why not?” Hope asks hotly. “It’s not like you actually give a fuck.” 

“You aren’t looking up, so you can’t see I’m rolling my eyes, but I’m rolling my eyes.” Penelope informs her.

The waitress stops by their table again. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get you?” The seductive slant to her tone makes Hope assume she’s speaking to Penelope. 

“I think we’re good.” 

Hope drops her head onto the table, sideways so she can look at the blurry shape of Penelope. Her cheek sticks to the wood. “Aren’t you going to get her number or something?” 

“Oh, Mikaelson. Why would I need any other girls’ numbers when you’re so fun to be around?” 

Hope closes her eyes and wishes she had another drink to stave off the impending headache. “Can you please go fuck the waitress and leave me alone?” 

“I was really hoping Drunk Hope would at least have some better insults, but I see it just makes you angstier. Which I didn’t think was possible.” 

Hope decides maybe if she just stops talking, Penelope will go away. 

“No, I won’t.” Penelope says, sounding amused, and Hope registers that she must have spoken out loud. “Not till you tell me why you’re here.” 

“I know you don’t feel any emotions except lust and jealousy, but some people feel more than that, and they drink to forget those feelings.” 

Penelope hums thoughtfully. “Well, has it worked?”

“Has what worked?”

“Have you stopped feeling yet?” 

“No.” Hope says desolately to the table. “It’s not fair. It hurts so much.” 

Penelope pats her shoulder amicably. “I know. I know.” 

“No, you don’t.” Hope tilts backward into Penelope’s touch, the world blurring in her vision. Her voice isn’t angry, just tired. “You have no idea what it’s like. My parents, my friends… They all die. They all _ die _. I’m like a curse.”

Penelope is silent for a moment. She slides closer, so their thighs are brushing. Hope doesn’t move away. “Their deaths aren’t your fault. You know that, right?”

Hope shifts so she can glare at her. “It’s so weird when you try to be nice.” She’s mostly successful at keeping her voice from slurring. 

“Well then, stop making me do it so often.” Penelope says easily. “Now, drink the water so we can leave.” 

Just to spite her, Hope picks up her own class, ignoring the water, and downs the entire glass of whiskey in one swallow. She grits her teeth to stop herself from spitting it back out and sets the glass back down with a thunk.

“Wow. You really showed me.” Penelope puts her elbow on the greasy tabletop and leans forward into Hope’s vision when it’s clear Hope won’t look at her. “Come on. You’re not going to be able to walk soon, and I am definitely not going to carry you.” 

“Fuck you, Park.” Hope slurs, and yeah, maybe that last drink was a mistake. On the plus side, she can’t remember what she was so upset about. On the other hand, she can’t remember how to get home, either.

When Penelope doesn’t reply to that witty retort, Hope keeps talking. “Fine! Fine. You want to go?!” Penelope does not look particularly intimidated by Hope’s indignant question, so maybe she’s not coming off as tough as she thought. It’s hard to tell when the world is spinning so much. “Let’s fucking go.” Hope pushes out of the booth, the glasses knocking together dangerously. 

“Sorry about this.” She hears Penelope say to the bartender. “I really can’t take her anywhere.”

“You _ don’t _ take me anywhere!” Hope tosses over her shoulder, attempting to make her way to the door. 

Penelope catches up with Hope just before she shoves the door open. “Don’t touch me!” Hope snaps when Penelope tries to take her arm and balance her. 

Penelope sighs and lets Hope push her way into the parking lot. 

The cool night air hits like a slap to the face. 

“Are you done, or-” Whatever Penelope was going to say is cut off as Hope drops to her knees and vomits into the grass. 

Penelope stands there and waits, one hand on her hip.

“Aren’t you gonna hold back my hair?” Hope croaks, to distract from how embarrassed she is to be this much of a mess in front of Penelope Park.

“I would, if I didn’t know you’d slap me for trying.” Penelope says, in a dry tone that Hope realizes, in a sudden drunk revelation, Penelope uses to disguise whatever emotion she’s actually feeling. She tried to remind herself to remember this fact when she wakes up tomorrow. 

Hope doesn’t have time to retort because she doubles back over to wrench out bile, nothing left to empty from her stomach, and then, to her horror, bursts into tears. 

“Fuck.” She heaves, scrubbing furiously at her eyes as if that will make the tears stop coming. “Fuck.” Her breaths are coming short and fast as she starts to hyperventilate. 

Penelope kneels in front of Hope and grabs her wrists to stop her, her fingers wrapping around Hope’s veins. “Hope, stop. _ Hope _.” Penelope repeats as Hope struggles against her. She releases Hope’s wrists and wraps her arms around her instead, crushing Hope to her chest. All the fight goes out of Hope, her body sagging against Penelope’s solid hold. 

“I hate you.” Hope spits out between sobs. “I hate myself.” 

Penelope doesn’t argue and she doesn’t try to comfort her, either, just keeps her grip firm around Hope. Some tiny, pathetic part of Hope feels a quiet thrill in just being held, in the feel of someone else’s body against hers. God, she’s really drunk. 

Eventually Hope’s sobs peter out. When she registers what’s happening, she shoves Penelope away and Penelope lets go immediately, falling back into the grass. 

“You’re sitting in vomit.” Hope points out, her voice raspy. She’s afraid Penelope is going to ask questions she doesn’t want to answer. Her drunkenness is starting to fade a little and she’s realizing how her actions of the last hour might look. 

“Well, whose fault is that?” 

“I didn’t tell you to follow me out here and try to be my savior.” 

It’s dark out, but Hope thinks she can see Penelope roll her eyes again. “That’s not what I’m doing.” 

Hope doesn’t really know why she’s trying so hard to provoke Penelope into a fight, but she is. “You sure about that?” 

“Hope, shut up.” Penelope snaps. “I’m not going to leave you here, no matter how much of an asshole you are.” 

Hope would storm off if only she could get her legs to cooperate. As it is, she tries to push off the ground and stumbles down again. 

Penelope stands up with a huff. “Jesus, you’re so fucking stubborn. Just let me take you home already.” She grabs Hope by the hand and tugs her up, slinging Hope’s arm over her own shoulders before she can protest.

“This is the point where you say a line about getting your hands on me.” Hope mutters, too tired and drunk to keep fighting. She lets her head loll against Penelope’s shoulder. 

“I’m not going to waste my breath when you won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” 

“You saying you’re forgettable, Park?” 

“I’m saying you’re blackout drunk, Mikaelson.”

Hope isn’t sure when, but at some point during this pointless conversation, Penelope appears to transported them to Salvatore. 

“Park.” She keeps her voice low as Penelope drags her into the hallway. “Are you going to hold this night against me forever?”

Her eyes are closed, so she can’t see Penelope’s face, but her voice seems weird to Hope’s drunken ears. “You really don’t believe I could do anything nice, huh?” 

“Even if you could, why would you be nice to _ me _?”

Penelope sighs. “Go to sleep, Hope. Aren’t you tired?”

“I‘m so tired.” Hope whispers against Penelope’s shoulder. She listens to the rise and fall of Penelope’s chest as she breathes. 

“Close your eyes.” Penelope says back, and then she starts to mumble something, a spell, or maybe a song, until Hope falls asleep. 

* * *

She wakes up with the same horrible emotions, plus a headache. The emotional hangover is arguably worse than the actual hangover- her head swirls with so much self-hatred and shame and fear, she’s nauseous with it. 

It’s a good thing she doesn’t remember anything after arriving at the bar. She doesn’t even know how she got home. 

Hope drags herself out of bed only because she knows if she doesn’t show up to class, Josie or Alaric will come looking for her, and that can’t possibly end well. She’s _ not _ going to see Emma again. She survives the first few classes, but by the time they break for lunch, Hope feels awful. She’s incredibly anxious, her heart working double time in her chest, and her senses feel too alert. Everything is so loud, the clamor of people walking down the hall, the beating of their hearts, the heat, the pound of her head, the-

“Hope.” 

She doesn’t know what surprises her more, that Penelope Park actually calls her by her first name, or the almost... tender tone with which Penelope says it. 

“What?!” She practically spits out, spinning around. 

It’s seeing the brief flicker of concern on Penelope’s face that makes Hope realize she’s very close to losing control. 

Penelope is quick to revert to her usual side smirk. “Ruh roh, Scoob. You alright?”

Hope looks down at her own trembling hands, then back up at Penelope, too emotional to think of a come back or decide what to do next. 

Penelope’s eyes soften, just a little. “Go out for a run or whatever.” She mimes something that Hope thinks is supposed to be her turning into a werewolf. “I’ll cover for you with Alaric.” 

Hope can feel whatever tenuous hold she has left on her human form slipping, so she doesn’t have time to question it. She just nods and shoulders past Penelope, breaking into a jog as she heads for the nearest door to outside. 

She makes it to the edge of the clearing and breaks into her wolf form. The pain as she changes keeps her grounded, clears her mind from everything else. Then her paws hit the dirt and she’s running and all she’s thinking about is running, not parents or legacies or love, and definitely not of sparkling brown eyes and lips twisted into a smirk. 

-

Hope doesn’t get back to campus until almost two am. She knows she’ll regret it when she has to get up for class in four hours, but for now she’s enjoying the simmer of adrenaline still in her veins, the calm she gets from a long, tiring run. She’d run for miles and miles, letting everything else fall away, and she feels better now. It’s not as if everything’s fine now, of course, but it’s quieter, her head calmer than it has been in weeks.

She’s feeling good- so good, in fact, that she forgets the events of the first part of the day- so Hope is actually surprised when she arrives at the door to her room and finds Penelope Park slumped with her back to the door, asleep. 

She takes a moment to admire the smooth planes of Penelope’s tan skin, the rare glimpse of the brunette with no flashy smirks or smug looks. Then she kicks her.

“Ow!” 

The book Penelope was holding smacks into the opposite wall as Penelope flails awake. 

“What the f- Mikaelson.” Penelope ends her sentence with a glare. “Nice of you to finally make it back.” 

“Well, I didn’t know you’d be sitting here counting the minutes until my return.”

Penelope rolls her eyes as she stands up, stretching languidly before retrieving her book from the hallway floor. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mikaelson. I just didn’t want to show up tomorrow to the whole school shitting itself over your disappearance or something. I don’t like to share the attention.”

“Riiiiight.” Hope unlocks her door and pushes her way in. She turns back and sees Penelope watching her, her dark eyes guarded. 

“Are you alright?” 

She wants to reply sarcastically, but holds herself back. “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

Penelope looks like she absolutely doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t question further. “Good.”

There’s a pause where Hope almost feels tempted to invite Penelope into her room. Almost. “So… I assume you can find your way back to your own room?” 

Penelope shakes her head, but she’s grinning. “You’re an ass, Mikaelson!” She calls as she makes her way down the hall. 

Hope doesn’t bother with a reply, but when she shuts the door, she realizes she’s smiling, just a little. 

* * *

The last of the summer weather is fading by the time October comes to Salvatore. The trees outside are beginning to fade from green to brown and the nights are getting cooler. 

Hope leaves Alaric’s office after yet another pep talk and heads to Penelope’s room, walking in without bothering to knock. 

“Why do you look so cheerful? I didn’t even know you knew how to smile.” Penelope watches from her bed as Hope drops her bag on the floor and tosses herself onto the couch. 

“What, I’m not allowed to smile now? You’re such a tyrant.” 

Penelope rolls her eyes and waits expectantly. 

Have they really been hanging out long enough that Penelope can tell when Hope is using sarcasm to deflect? 

“It’s just a good day.” Hope relents. “Is that such a crime?” 

“So you talked to Lizzie today.” Penelope translates. 

“Maybe I did.” Hope shrugs, even though she knows it’s pointless to be coy with Penelope Park. When Penelope just keeps looking at her, Hope can’t help but grin, pulling out her phone and opening instagram. She tosses it to Penelope. 

“Look. She posted a photo of us.” 

Penelope catches the phone and looks at the screen with disgust. “I’m so glad I don’t follow her.” Hope rolls her eyes, which Penelope ignores. "But hey, I'm glad you're not moping from a distance anymore." She starts typing. 

“What are you doing?” Hope reaches for the phone and Penelope rolls out of the way. 

“Reading your texts, obviously. I can’t believe you would be dumb enough to give me your phone unlocked.”

“You little-”

There’s a five minute scrabble across Penelope’s room before Hope manages to wrestle her phone back. 

“God, you really are a terror.” She mutters as she tucks her phone away safely in her pocket, still breathing heavily. Then she remembers why she stopped by. “Oh by the way, I heard you turned down Dana again.”

“Hope Mikaelson.” Penelope gasps dramatically. “Don’t tell me you listen to such petty and trivial gossip. God, it’s so tough to be as popular as I am.”

“Penelope, half the time you’re the one who starts the rumors.” 

Penelope gives her a toothy smile from behind her notebook. “I have to keep my reputation intact somehow.” 

Hope isn’t even going to unpack that statement. “Yes, god forbid you be considered a normal low life like the rest of us.” 

Penelope opens her mouth for what Hope is certain will be a scathing insult, so she keeps talking. “And what’re you writing anyway? Another poem for Josie?” Hope cranes her neck to try to read Penelope’s scrawl, but Penelope leans out of reach and snaps the cover shut. 

“Make fun all you want, Mikaelson, but just know that one day, when I’m publishing best sellers, you’ll be lucky to say you read my early works.” 

The problem with that statement is Hope can actually picture it; Penelope as a world famous author or something, and Hope saying she knew her, once.

“Is that what you wanna do? Be an author?” 

Penelope shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. Something with writing. Or like, an editor. They’ve got power.” 

Hope pretends to shiver. “I pity the employee who has you as a boss.” 

Rolling her eyes, Penelope asks, “What about you?”

Hope goes very still. “What about me?”

“What do you want to do? Like, what do you think you’ll study in college?”

Hope examines her hands carefully. Her nails are getting long. “I don’t. Think much about my future.” _ I don’t think I’ll be alive to see it. _ goes unsaid. 

There’s a beat of silence and then Penelope gives a low whistle. “Damn. You’ve really got like, so much repressed trauma happening at all times.”

“That’s part of my charm.” Hope drawls back in her best Penelope impression. 

Penelope gives a delighted chuckle. “You are learning!” 

Hope is absolutely going to ignore the little spike of pleasure she feels lately when she impresses Penelope. It doesn’t _ mean _ anything. Hope hates Penelope, and Penelope doesn’t care about anyone but herself. That’s why this relationship works. It works because Hope knows Penelope will never care about her, so she’s safe. They both are. 

* * *

It’s barely 10pm on Friday night when Hope hears her phone ringing. She answers mostly because she cannot imagine why Milton Greasley would be calling her. 

“Hope.” MG has a nervous edge to his voice.

“Milton…?”

“Have you seen Penelope?” 

“How did you get my number?”

“I got it from Lizzie.” The boy answers, and Hope inwardly sighs as her heart starts racing at the sound of Lizzie’s name. “Have you see Penelope?”

“...No? I’m not at the party.” She’s distracted by the news that Lizzie at least has her number saved. 

“No, I know, it’s just…” She hears the boisterous sounds of the party mute as MG shuts the door. “Josieandlandonkisssedandithinkpenelopemayhaveseenandnowshesgoneandigotworried.”

Hope presses one hand to her temple. “What?” 

“Josie and Landon kissed- er, they still are kissing, kinda-” MG exhales hard. “And I think Penelope saw. And now I can’t find her and I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid.” 

“Doing stupid shit is kind of Penelope’s thing.” Hope points out. She’s already put MG on speaker, though, while she changes out of her pajamas into something she can wear out of her room. 

“Yeah, I know, I just thought… she said she’s been hanging out with you lately and I thought maybe you might know where she is.” 

Hope pauses rummaging through a drawer. “She’s mentioned me?” 

“Yeah, of course…” MG sounds distracted, probably texting someone from Penelope’s coven to see if they’ve heard from her. “Okay, well, listen, if you see her, let me know, okay? And uhhh… maybe don’t tell her I called. Or told you any of this.” 

“I’ll let you know.” Hope promises, hopping on one foot as she pulls her boot onto the other. “But don’t worry too much. She’ll be alright. She’s Penelope Park.” 

“You’re right, you’re right. Thanks, Hope.” 

She hangs up. She knows where Penelope will be. 

-

By the time Hope makes it to the roof, Penelope is two thirds of the way through a bottle of vodka. 

“Mikaelson!” Penelope drawls, pumping one fist in a clearly sarcastic cheer. 

“I thought we weren’t moping over girls?”

Penelope takes another long swig from the bottle. “Change of plans.” 

“Jesus, Park.” Hope tugs the bottle out of Penelope’s hand and plunks it out of reach. “And I thought_ I _ was good at self sabotage.” 

Penelope pouts, jutting out her bottom lip and batting her eyelashes. “Aw, don’t ruin the fun, Hopesy. Come on.” 

Hope shoves at Penelope’s shoulder until she breaks her pout in favor of laughing at Hope’s disgruntled expression. 

“Hopesy?” The person in question repeats dubiously. 

“Well, you don’t like when I call you by your last name.” 

Hope didn’t think she’d noticed.

Penelope goes to lean backward casually and miscalculates, flailing backward, her head making a painful noise against the cement roof. Hope winces. 

“Fuck.” Penelope says to the ground. “I’m drunk.” 

“So _ now _ you notice.” Hope tugs Penelope into a sitting position. “Stop moving. I need to check for a concussion.” 

Penelope smirks as Hope takes her head in between her palms. “If you wanted to get your hands on me, all you had to do was ask.”

Hope rolls her eyes. “Can you name the months backwards?” 

“Did MG tell you I was up here?” Penelope ignores Hope’s question. “That kid worries too much.”

“Yeah, well.” Hope releases Penelope when she’s moderately satisfied that Penelope is just drunk and not concussed. “I wasn’t going to let you jump without me.” 

‘Is this a suicide pact friendship now?” Penelope sounds amused at the prospect. “Always thought you were too much of a martyr for that, Wolfie.” 

“If you’re gonna psychoanalyze me, then maybe I do need a drink.” Hope reaches back and grabs the bottle, forgoing a glass. 

Penelope hold up one finger. “I can do you one better.” She drawls, and then rummages in her pocket until she triumphantly pulls out a joint. 

Hope wrinkles her nose as the vodka burns her throat. “I’m not a fan.”

“Wait.” Penelope waves her hands like a kid’s magician and the joint in her palm is joined by a cigarette. 

“God, you’re such a show off.” Hope stills takes the cigarette though, choosing not to question how Penelope knows her preferred brand. Penelope grins triumphantly. 

“Now let me be clear, Mikaelson.” She says, speaking around the joint in her mouth as she sparks her lighter. “This is not a ‘The Saltzmans don’t love us’ pity party.” 

“As if you’d ever be seen at a party with me.” Hope grabs the lighter from Penelope’s hand so she can light her own cigarette. 

“Do you ever get tired of being so angsty?” Penelope blows a stream of smoke into the air and leans back on her hands, gazing up at the sky. 

Hope doesn’t even bother trying to look as effortlessly hot as Penelope Park looks when she’s smoking. “Do _ you _ ever get tired of pretending you don’t care about anything?” 

“Who said I’m pretending?” 

Hope rolls her eyes. “I know it’s just an act, Park.”

“Just cause Alaric thinks you’re the chosen one or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything.” 

Hope folds her legs underneath her and turns towards Penelope as she takes a drag from her cigarette. “Okay. Then you tell me. Why’d you break up with Josie?” 

Penelope raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ignore her the way Hope knows she would if she was sober. “Because I’m a selfish, evil, bitch, haven’t you heard?”

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I.” Penelope moves one hand lazily, drawing patterns in the smoke. There’s a moment of silence, and then: “I didn’t want to break up with her.” 

Hope barely conceals her surprise. She hadn’t really expected Penelope to be vulnerable. Maybe it’s the alcohol. 

“I was in love with her.” Penelope laughs bitterly. “I _ am _ in love with her, whatever. She was like… the one real thing in my life. The one person that I didn’t have to pretend with or hide from.” 

This is the first time Hope’s really comprehended how much Penelope is hurting. Penelope always seems so in control, so unaffected, but now her voice is strangled with the pain of it, the haunted look in her eyes making it obvious. 

“Then why-” Penelope jumps a little, like she’d forgotten Hope was even there, but Hope has to ask. “Then why did you do it?” 

“She was always going to pick someone else.”

“What? Josie was head over heels for you, you can’t seriously believe-”

“Not like that.” Penelope interrupts Hope’s interruption. “I mean, she was always doing what _ Lizzie _ wanted, and the only time she wasn’t was when she was doing what _ I _ wanted.” She smiles bitterly. “I just wanted her to choose herself for once, you know? I thought maybe, if I got out of the way, she would. And I guess she did.”

They both sit there in the still night for a moment, smoke wafting around them. 

“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” 

Penelope barks out a choked laugh at Hope’s declaration.

Hope realizes maybe she's not the best person to be sent to comfort someone, but whatever. “Why didn’t you just tell her that, instead of breaking her heart?!” 

Now Penelope really does laugh. “Hope Mikaelson, of all people, is going to tell _ me _ to communicate? That’s rich. You’d literally rather die than be honest about your emotions.” 

Hope glares. “That’s not true.”

“Prove it.” Penelope goads. “Answer one question truthfully.” 

Sometimes, with Penelope, talking feels more like sparring. Hope always thinks she’s winning, and then Penelope says something and Hope sees this is exactly the position Penelope has been working towards the whole time.

It is not an unpleasant realization. 

Hope shakes off the embers of her cigarette and brings it back to her mouth. “Why? I didn’t think you were interested in anything other than yourself.” _ Or Josie. _

“I’m not. But we’re already up here, so…”

“Fine. One question.” 

“Alright.” Penelope exhales another stream of smoke and closes her eyes as if thinking hard, which Hope knows is an act. She’s probably had the question picked out since Hope appeared on the roof. But Hope doesn’t mind, because the reprieve gives her a chance to analyze the witch unabashedly. 

Penelope’s smirk is gleaming in the moonlight, and for a second Hope sees the wicked Penelope Park that all the rumors talk about- as beautiful as she is terrible. 

But then the shadows shift, and it’s just Penelope again. 

Penelope tilts her head towards her as if she can hear Hope’s thoughts and opens her eyes. “Why are you so afraid to care about anyone? Or let anyone care about you?” 

Hope pauses. 

If she concentrates hard, she can hear the music from the party at the mill, the crush of bodies moving together, dancing, writhing. Further out, the slither and skuttle of animals in the dark, the roar of wind in the trees. And right here, she can hear the thump of Penelope’s heart, steady and familiar now, the shift of her thighs against the concrete, the rush of air from her lungs. 

“You already know the answer to that.” 

Penelope shrugs, her apparent disinterest in the situation betrayed only by the sharp look in her eyes. “I want to hear you say it.” 

Hope sighs, dropping her head back so she can look at the sky instead of Penelope’s piercing gaze. How low has she fallen, that she’s confessing her darkest thoughts to Penelope Park, of all people? 

“Because when I love, people get hurt.” She glares off into the darkness. “Everyone I care about dies.” 

For a second, Hope is afraid Penelope might actually try to comfort her, and she isn’t sure she can handle that. But Penelope simply raises her joint into the air as a mock salute to Hope’s confession. “Then I’ll probably live forever.” 

Hope almost smiles. “Now _ that’ _s a terrifying prospect.” 

Penelope grins again, all teeth. “You don’t wanna be with me for all eternity?”

Hope puts a hand to her chin and pretends to contemplate. “I always figured I’d go to hell, so…”

Penelope laughs as she brings the joint to her mouth again, finishes it. She smokes fast, but the effect of the drug doesn’t show. Even copious amounts of alcohol have only blurred her edges, shrunk down her walls a little. “You’re something else, Hope Mikaelson.” 

Hope really isn’t sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. She wants to squirm, uncomfortable with the attention on herself. “Well, there. I answered your question. So, you should take my advice about Josie. You’ve still got a shot.” She doesn’t mean for her remark to come off self deprecative, but it does. 

Penelope’s mouth tightens into a frown. “She told me we’re never going to get back together.” She looks down at her hands as if they contain the secrets of the universe and again, there’s a brief flash of immense pain on her face. After a moment, she shakes herself out of her thoughts and gives Hope a small, obviously fake smile. “And she's with Landon now, anyway.” For a moment, Hope had forgotten why she was up here in the first place. “So I think your chances with Lizzie are better than mine with Josie. If you ever let her in, of course.” 

She holds out her hand and Hope passes the cigarette instinctively. Penelope hesitates with one finger over the burning end, as if she’s considering pressing it to her skin, branding herself. But then she brings it up to her mouth, her lips right where Hope’s lips were. She inhales deep. 

Hope imagines the swirl of smoke inside her lungs, slowly turning them black, like the color everyone says Penelope’s heart is. 

“So you broke up with Josie to try to help her and I won’t let Lizzie get close to me because I don’t want her to get hurt, and now we’re all miserable. Kind of pathetic, huh?” 

Penelope passes the cigarette back. “The most powerful witch in school and the world’s only witch-vampire-wolf hybrid drunk and tragic over the Saltzman Sisters? Pathetic?” She holds up her thumb and forefinger. “Just a little bit.” 

Hope exhales and stubs the remains of the cigarette out on the cement. “I still hate you, you know.” It feels like something she has to say. With her own inebriation and the smoke in the air, Hope isn’t sure if she imagines the flicker of some emotion on Penelope’s face or not. 

Penelope smiles that terrible, haunted smile. “Yeah, I know.” 

And she does. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire fic is brought to you by the "sorry, i don't have time for bitchy banter" line in 1.06 and the photo of Hope's psychological assessment.  
title and starting lines from the poem [ "Letter From My Heart to My Brain"](https://allloversbetray.tumblr.com/post/94776014847/full-version) by Rachel McKibbens i highly recommend reading the entire piece  
can you tell i've never smoked weed  
I really can’t believe I have spent all of November writing this fic when there are only six people who ship it and I am three of those six.  
i have chapter two mostly written but does anyone even want it? let me know... tell your friends.... read it out loud at the thanksgiving dinner table..... comment.... something please


	2. part two: some unnamed emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s always a dangerous game to flirt with Penelope, but sometimes Hope can’t help herself. “Do I need to make you promise not to fall in love with me?”  
“Depends.” Hope knows that it’s deliberate, she knows that Penelope drops her gaze down to Hope’s lips on purpose as she speaks. “What will you do if I don’t promise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, ladies. Imagine writing an actual plot into the story. Could NOT be me. Feel free to go back and read chapter one again to remind yourself what happened. or don't. fyi i changed the quote at the beginning of the fic. sorry for the wait time but... this chapter is 26k words so hopefully that makes up for it?  
For timeline clarity, everything that happened in 1.14 did happen, except Penelope wasn’t planning to leave Salvatore and doesn’t, obviously.  
And before we begin, let me just say- i spent hours at my day job reading the legacies/vampire diaries wikipedia entries to try to get all the facts/continuity correct, but like…. The show doesn’t even do that. For example, TVD episodes show untriggered werewolves having enhanced hearing, but Hope needed MG to listen for Josie in 1.06? And don’t get me started on the timeline, which seems totally fucked. I decided Hope is 18 and Penelope turns 18 this chapter. Anyway so if I get things wrong here, like… I swear I tried my best.

_In your offhand, mocking way _  
_you've invited me into your chest. _  
_Inside: the blur that poses as your heart. _  
_I'm supposed to go in with a torch _  
_or maybe hot water bottles _  
_& defrost it by hand _  
_as one defrosts an old refrigerator. _  
_It will shudder & sigh _  
_(the icebox to the insomniac). _  
  
_Oh there's nothing like love between us. _  
_You're the mountain, I am climbing you. _  
_If I fall, you won't be all to blame, _  
_but you'll wait years maybe _  
_for the next doomed expedition._

_(Erika Fong)_

* * *

“Park?” 

It’s been a nice, quiet day, but when she sees Penelope, Hope has a feeling it won’t be for much longer. Of course, she could just walk past without comment, but then she’d be alone with her own thoughts, and Hope is avoiding that.

So she frowns down at the other girl, who’s crouched behind some foliage and squinting off towards the quad.

“Shh!” Penelope grabs Hope by the hand and tugs her into the bushes beside her. 

“What the hell-” Hope looks in the same direction as Penelope and sees Josie and Landon. “Oh, that’s healthy. Mhmm. Spying on your ex and her new boyfriend. Very normal.” 

“I’m not  _ spying _ .” Penelope sounds awfully condescending for someone who’s spying in the bushes. “I’m  _ hiding _ . If Josie sees me, she give me like… a look of pity now. It’s horrible.” 

“Oh, I see.” Hope nods sagely. “ _ Hiding _ in the bushes. Well, that’s much better.” 

Penelope attempts to push Hope sideways into the leaves. “What does she see in him, anyway? I mean, look at him!”

Hope picks a leaf out of her hair. “To be clear, are you just going to pine from a distance forever now or…?

Penelope sighs. “If Landon makes her happy, then…”

Hope eyes her with suspicion. “Seriously? You’re just giving up? No elaborate schemes or plans? No big speech? Nothing?” That doesn’t sound like Penelope at all. 

“What do you want me to say? That I fought so hard for Josie to stand up for herself because it broke my heart to see her treat herself like shit and now she hates me for it and she’s moved on so I just have to live with the choices I’ve made even if it means I can’t sleep at night because it hurts so much?” Penelope pours all the words out at once and then faces Hope expectantly.

“Uhh…” 

“Wait, hold on.” Penelope looks down at her wrist as if she’s wearing an invisible watch. “Damn, it’s only 2:30. Way too early for angst. Maybe next time!”

Hope opens her mouth to say something, then closes it and nods. “Alright then.” She takes her position in the bushes next to Penelope. 

“A scheme though, that’s not a bad idea…” Penelope taps her chin in fake contemplation, then suddenly brightens. “Oh! Maybe we should-”

“If you suggest we fake date to make them jealous, I’ll knock your teeth out.”

Penelope’s face falls into a dramatic pout. ”You’re no fun.” 

Hope shoots her a look. “Absolutely no one in this entire school would believe for even a second that we were dating. It would be a completely implausible attempt to force yet  _ another _ trope into this story.” 

“I don’t know.” Penelope scans Hope up and down, then shrugs. “I’m hot. You’re hot. It could work.” 

“I’d rather date…” Hope glances around, trying to think of someone worse than Penelope. “I don’t even know. We’d be a disaster.” 

“Oh, so you’ve considered it?” Penelope smirks like she’s won something. 

Hope decides it’s safer to go back to staring out of the bushes. “Every day I wish Josie had burned off more than your hair.” 

“You’re so violent, jeez. What is Alaric teaching you?” 

Hope doesn’t bother to respond to that, instead choosing to hunker down further in the bush in case anyone looks their way. Unfortunately that means Penelope keeps talking. 

“You’re seriously telling me you wouldn’t date me?” 

Hope glances at the brunette from the corner of her eye. “Are you actually offended by that?”

Penelope grumbles something under her breath. Then she huffs. “I’ll have you know, Hope Mikaelson, that I am quite a catch.” 

“Penelope,” Hope says, exasperated. “You already know you’re hot. You have like a million cronies who tell you every day. Do you really need me to say it?” 

“No, no. It’s fine. You think I’m horrible and ugly, I got it.” Penelope sniffs in a terrible attempt to seem sad.

Hope doesn’t know why Penelope’s constant need for attention continues to surprise her. She’s about to give in and compliment Penelope when she spots movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh shit!” Hope ducks behind Penelope.

“Now who’s hiding in the bushes?”

“It’s Lizzie!” Hope hisses, peering out from behind Penelope’s hair. “If she sees us together, she’ll kill me. And then you. And then probably me again.”

“Say no more.” Penelope says with a grin on her face and one hand in a salute. Then she turns towards the girl in question and shouts, “HEY! ELIZABETH!”

“You little-” Hope goes to silence Penelope but her hands clutch at nothing as Penelope disappears in a cloud of smoke.

“That bitch.” is all Hope has time to mutter before Lizzie reaches her. 

“Hey,” Lizzie says with an bemused smile, and Hope feels her heart skip a beat. “What’re you doing down there?” 

Hope stands up abruptly, brushing her hair back. “Uh.. nothing. How are you? I haven’t seen you around lately.” She inwardly cringes. She couldn’t be more awkward if she tried. 

“You know how it is around here.” Lizzie says with a roll of her eyes. “Always some new drama to deal with. Not to mention Josie dating that hobbit.” 

Hope makes a face to match Lizzie’s disgusted look. “I know. You’d think she would’ve learned from my mistakes.” 

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot you dated him too. Why did you break up with him, anyway? Besides the obvious, of course.” 

Somehow Hope doesn’t think “ _ because I realized I was in love with you _ ” is going to work as an answer here. “The obvious reasons.” She says instead, and is rewarded with a laugh from Lizzie. For some reason, Hope hears Penelope snickering too. That’s when she realizes Penelope isn’t gone, just invisible. 

Hope casually swings one foot backward, her heel colliding with Penelope’s invisible shin. There’s a rustling of leaves as Penelope presumably falls over.

Lizzie gives her a weird look. “Is everything okay..?” 

Hope brushes her hair back even though she’s already done that. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Do you want to hang out later?”

“Sure, but,” Lizzie throws a look over her shoulder towards Josie and Landon, “No boys, okay? Just us.” 

Hope wonders if her laugh actually sounds that high pitched or if it just sounds that way in her head. “Ha! Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Okay. See you later, weirdo.” Lizzie gives her a slightly confused yet affection smile, as if she’s used to Hope acting weird. It makes Hope’s palms sweat. She watches Lizzie walk away and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Oh my god.”

Hope jumps when Penelope appears again. 

Penelope cackles. “Did you just let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding?!”

“ _ Motus _ !” Hope uses a tiny burst of magic to knock Penelope onto her ass in the leaves, which does not stop her laughter.

“You’re just so awkward with her, I can’t help but laugh.” Penelope explains as she climbs to her feet, ruffling her hair back to perfection. “But hey, you actually had a whole conversation with her, instead of just those dramatic gazes you usually exchange!” 

“There are no dramatic gazes.” 

“Sure, sure.” Penelope pats her on her shoulder. “The dramatic gazes, the hand clutching, the unspoken tension- it’s the classic frenemies to lovers story. Except somehow you got stuck in the middle part where all you do is pine from a distance.” 

Hope sighs as they watch Josie, Landon, and Lizzie walk back into the building. They share three seconds of commiserating silence before Penelope ruins it with: “But to be clear, I’m definitely hotter than all of them.” 

Hope knocks her back down again. 

* * *

“Why do you never tell me where we’re going in advance?” Hope huffs as she jogs after Penelope.

“Because you’d always say no.” 

It’s a gray Wednesday evening in the middle of October, and Hope is pretty sure everyone else on campus is studying for midterms, like the two of them should be. It is another bad day for Hope, mentally. She can feel the ache of anxiety crawling up her shoulders, clouding her head, and it’s making her cranky. She doesn’t have time for whatever poorly thought out scheme Penelope is about to involve her in. 

Still, when Penelope shows up in the library and drags her out with the promise of a distraction, Hope follows. 

She only gets more confused when Penelope leads them into the gym.

“I didn’t even know you knew what this building was for.” Hope watches, perplexed, as Penelope flicks on the lights and whispers a summoning charm under her breath. 

“Haven’t you figured out by now that I know everything?” Penelope raises her hand to catch the bag she’s called to her. 

“What the-” Hope turns away abruptly as Penelope starts to strip off her own shirt, which makes Penelope laugh. 

“Calm down, I’m not going to jump you. Unless you want-”

“Penelope!” She doesn’t even know why she’s so flustered. “Why are we here?”

Something hits Hope in the back and she turns around to find her gym bag in a heap on the floor. She looks up at a grinning Penelope in an obnoxiously pink sports bra. 

“We’re sparring.” Penelope says, like it's obvious.

“Who’s  _ we _ ?” 

“Don’t be dense.”

Determined not to let Penelope get to her, Hope rummages in the bag until she finds a tank top and pulls off her own shirt to change. She pretends like she can’t feel Penelope’s eyes on her and she definitely pretends the heat of her gaze doesn’t make her shiver. “You don’t seem like the type of girl to break a nail, much less a sweat.” 

Penelope makes a disapproving noise while she tucks her hair back. “I date women, Mikaelson, I keep my nails short. And if you really think that, then you can beat me easily and be done with it.” 

“Penelope…” Hope shifts on her feet. “I don’t know if you’re somehow the only person who’s forgotten, but I’m a tribrid. I can’t fight you.” The  _ I could hurt you _ goes unsaid, hidden behind Hope’s sharp tone. 

“Oh ye of little faith.” Penelope flips her arm so Hope can see the rune drawn on Penelope’s wrist in dark ink. “Did a spell to amplify my reflexes. I should be able to keep up.” She shrugs. “At least for an hour or so.” 

Hope eyes her dubiously as they move onto the mat. “The last thing I need is a rumor that I gave Penelope Park a black eye.” 

Penelope bounces lightly on the soles of her feet. “Awfully confident, aren’t you? Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

Hope reluctantly moves into position and throws a lazy, left handed jab. 

Penelope steps out of the way and gives her an unimpressed look. “Seriously?” She shifts forward and kicks at Hope’s midsection. Not expecting it, Hope barely avoids getting knocked over. Penelope raises an eyebrow in a clear challenge, that sly smile already pulling at her lips.

Hope rolls her shoulders back and brings her fists up in front of her face. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

The next few minutes are a flurry of blows and dodges, both girls moving at supernatural speeds around the room as they fight. Hope is reluctant, at first, but Penelope has always been good at goading Hope into a fight, and soon they’re trading blows in earnest. 

Hope is more practiced, but Penelope always seems to be one move ahead, which is how she is in conversation, too, so Hope shouldn’t be surprised. 

It clears Hope’s head, the blur of sparring, the pull of her muscles, the coordination of it all. No time for overthinking or hesitation, just blocking Penelope’s next punch and throwing ones of her own. Without the threat of like, dying, that there usually is when she fights, Hope is strangely invigorated by this. 

Penelope puts up a good fight, but eventually Hope flips her onto the mat, one arm around Penelope’s neck, her body weight pinning her to the ground. 

Laughing, Penelope twists her wrist so she can tap the mat. “Alright, alright, you win.” 

Hope releases her hold on Penelope and drops onto the ground next to her. She’s sweaty and her heart is pounding and the sweet release of adrenaline in her veins is making her lightheaded. She grins up at the ceiling. “Not bad, Park.” 

Penelope rolls over. “It was just a spell. You’re not wrong, I don’t really care for working out. There are much more fun ways to get your heart racing.” 

It would take too much effort to roll her eyes right now. “Then why are we here?” 

Penelope pauses for long enough that Hope tilts onto her side so she can peer at the other woman. 

“You seemed stressed.” Penelope says finally. “I just didn't want to find you passed out at some sleazy bar tomorrow or whatever.” 

“What-” The realization hits Hope like a brick. “That was  _ you _ ?!”

“Well it certainly wasn’t Lizzie Saltzman.” Penelope drawls, and Hope doesn’t even know what _ that _ ’s supposed to mean. The endorphin high is rapidly fading to a Penelope-confusion-induced headache. “Don’t overthink it, Mikaelson.” 

“I’m not.” Hope says, automatic, and Penelope snorts. 

“Right. Listen, I’m not being nice. I’m just using you to distract me so I don’t have to think about Josie and that nerd. Is that clear?” 

_ It doesn’t mean anything _ . Hope reminds herself.  _ It’s fine. _

There’s a moment where she wants to let the self pity swallow her- is she so easily broken, that even Penelope can tell when the darkness is bearing down on her? But she’s still damp with sweat and thrumming with post-spar energy, so she allows the moment to pass, decides to not let the despair take her. 

“Well then, next time I won’t go so easy on you.” Hope says primly as she pops up from the mats. 

“Easy on me?!” Penelope is so immediately outraged, it’s laughable. “Wait a minute, Mikaelson, don’t try to pretend I didn’t almost have you beat! Mikaelson? Hope!” 

Penelope chases after Hope as she runs out of the gym, laughing. 

* * *

“I’m so boredddddd.” Penelope throws her body over Hope’s lap in anguish. 

Hope continues writing, holding her elbows up to avoid Penelope’s limp figure, but otherwise unfazed by the dramatics. 

“Hope. Did you hear me? I’m sooo bored.” 

“I heard you.” Hope says absently, flipping to the back of the book to check her answers. 

Penelope pokes her in the side. “So pay attention to me!”

“I’m busy doing homework. You should try it some time.” 

Penelope sighs in exasperation and clambers off Hope’s lap, collapsing onto her bed instead. “You know, a lot of people in this school would die to hang out with me.” She informs Hope. 

Hope spares her a glance from the corner of her eye and calls her bluff. “So go bother them, then.” 

“And abandon you here? You wouldn’t know what to do without me!” 

“I would probably get some work done, for one thing.” 

“Hoppppppe.” Penelope groans. “You aced all your midterms, you’re a genius, you don’t even need to do your homework! All the professors love you and you don’t even go to class half the time because you’re out fighting the monster of the week!” 

“Stop,” Hope deadpans, “I’m swooning.” 

“You’re boring, is what you are. And a nerd.” 

“Oh no, what will I do without Penelope Park’s approval?” 

Her phone chimes, a welcome distraction from Penelope’s meddling. Hope picks up her phone to see a new message from Lizzie. She can’t quite hide her soft smile as she opens the message, and Penelope starts making gagging noises at the sight. 

“Fuck off.” Hope says distractedly, carefully deciding what to text back. 

“Come on, Mikaelson.” Penelope pulls up a chair next to Hope and props one elbow on the desk. “I hate to be the one to tell you this-”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But still. Someone has to tell you that this whole thing with Lizzie has gone on long enough.”

Hope raises an eyebrow and sets aside her phone. “This, from you? You and Josie broke up like a year ago and you’re still longing over her.”

“But  _ we _ actually dated.” Penelope snags a pencil from the desk and points the end at Hope menacingly. “And don’t try to distract me by bringing up Josie. You either need to ask Lizzie out or move on. At this point, I think you’re just delaying things for no reason. It’s like you  _ want _ to lose your chance.” 

Hope closes her eyes and counts backwards from ten, something her aunt taught her to calm her genetically predetermined temper. “Haven’t we discussed this? Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.” 

Penelope scoffs. “I don’t need to analyze, your self sabotage is obvious from across the room.” 

“No, I think maybe you’re just obsessed with me.” It’s always a dangerous game to flirt with Penelope, but sometimes Hope can’t help herself. “Do I need to make you promise not to fall in love with me?” 

“Depends.” Hope knows that it’s deliberate, she  _ knows _ that Penelope drops her gaze down to Hope’s lips on purpose as she speaks. “What will you do if I  _ don’t _ promise?” 

Hope slides her tongue across her lips as slow as she can manage and watches Penelope’s pupils dilate. Two can play at this game. “I’d hate to have to break your heart.” She says, trying to emulate Penelope’s silky, seductive tone. 

Penelope smirks like she does every time Hope plays her game, as if to say,  _ There she is _ . Penelope will never, ever tell Hope about the thrill of satisfaction that runs through her when Hope plays along; she stomps down the emotion before it shows on her face. “But Mikaelson, you can't break what I don’t have.” 

“Well, in that case…” It’s too late to back down now, so Hope leans forward and places one hand on the cool skin of Penelope’s knee. 

Let it be known that Penelope Park never backs down from a challenge. She drops her hand to cover Hope’s and ever so slowly guides it further up her own thigh. 

_ Oh shit.  _ Hope swallows hard. She asks the first question that comes to mind to distract from the sudden tension. “Why are you wearing this? It’s almost November.” Her fingers hit the edge of Penelope’s skirt. 

“You’d be surprised how often these types of situations come up for me.” Penelope’s voice has absolutely dropped at least an octave. She shifts and Hope’s hand slips under the fabric.

“I…” She has a snarky response, she does, but for some reason Hope can’t remember it, not while Penelope’s gaze dares her to continue, and Hope struggles to remember why she shouldn’t. Her other hand has somehow found its way to Penelope’s other knee, Hope leaning forward between the v of Penelope’s legs, and from this position it would be so easy to just tilt forward a little more and-

Her phone chimes again, snapping Hope out of it. She flings herself backwards, the entire desk rattling as she slams back into it, pencils and pens clattering onto the floor. 

“Shit. Sorry.” Hope drops onto her knees to collect the fallen objects and uses the moment to gather herself. Why is she so out of breath?

“It’s fine.” There’s something strange in Penelope’s voice, but by the time Hope gets back up and looks at her, she’s composed herself. Penelope clears her throat. “Anyway, think about what I said, okay?”

“Literally what did you say?” 

“You’re hopeless.” Penelope informs her. “See what I did there?  _ Hope _ less?” 

Hope just stares at her, unimpressed.

“Really, nothing? Not even a smile? Alright.” Penelope runs a hand through her hair and sighs as she moves back to her bed. “What I said about Lizzie. You should-” there’s a very brief pause “- ask her out. Or move on.” She shrugs. “Whichever stops all this moping and pining.” 

Hope slides open Lizzie’s newest message and sees she’s been invited to eat dinner with the twins. “Park, even if I thought she felt the same, which I don’t-”

“She does.” 

“Even so,” Hope continues, “You know why I won’t ask her out.” She stands up and starts collecting her stuff. 

“Because you’re scared.” Penelope says plainly, watching her from the bed. “But listen, Mikaelson.” She straightens her shoulders. “I’m only going to say this once, and I will deny it if anyone asks but…” Penelope glares at Hope as if annoyed that she even has to say it. “You deserve to be happy, okay? Don’t hold yourself back.” 

Hope squints at her. “... Did you lose a bet or something?” 

Penelope chucks her book in Hope’s direction. “See, this is why I’m a bitch! I try to help people and this is what I get, nothing but complaining!”

Hope laughs, setting the book down on one of the precarious piles and hoisting her bag over one shoulder. She makes a decision. “Well, since we’re being nice and all, uh..” She hesitates, rocking back and forth on her heels, and grabs something from her backpack. 

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to propose? Because that’s sweet, but I’m waiting until after college to accept any marriage proposals.” 

Hope throws the package at Penelope’s head. 

Penelope picks it up and turns it over in her hands. “What is this?” 

Hope shoves her hands in her pockets. “I heard your eighteenth birthday is tomorrow. So. It’s a gift.” 

The raised eyebrow goes higher. “How did you know that?” 

“I know you don’t realize this, but it’s hard to avoid hearing about you in this school. At least four different people are trying to throw you a surprise party.” 

Penelope looks from the gift in her hands to Hope, then back to the gift, then up to Hope again. “So you heard it was my birthday and.. decided to get me something?  _ Me _ ? From  _ you _ ?” 

Hope shrugs. “I may not like you, but I’m not an asshole, okay?”

“Stop.” Penelope deadpans, “I’m swooning.” But her sarcastic words are betrayed by the delicate way she cradles the gift in her hands. 

Hope worries her lip between her teeth. “It’s not a big deal. Really.” 

If possible, Penelope raises her eyebrow even higher at Hope’s forced nonchalance. She looks again from the gift to Hope and Hope braces herself for Penelope’s teasing, but Penelope just says, “This doesn’t seem fair. We weren’t friends on  your 18th birthday; I didn’t give you anything.”

“We aren’t friends now.” Hope reminds her, relieved and eager to escape. “Anyway, I have to go.” 

“Yeah, you better hurry. Wouldn’t want to be late for your ‘sit with Josie and refuse to make eye contact with Lizzie for the entire time’ time, would-”

Hope shuts the door before Penelope can finish her sentence.

* * *

It’s pouring rain. 

Hope leaves footprints in the mud as she jogs and the cold November rain stings when it hits her bare skin. Her clothes are soaked through, sticking to her body as she forces herself to run one more lap. When she finishes, she aims herself for the sole dry tree in the distance. 

“Shit.” Hope drops down onto the grass, her back against the rough bark. 

Penelope wipes a speck of mud off the page of her book and flips to the next one, seemingly unaffected by the torrential downpour; with the shield charm around them, the storm is background noise. “Get all your energy out yet? I hate the smell of wet dog.” 

Hope attempts to wipe the rainwater and sweat out of her eyes so she can roll them. “No one forces you to come out here while I train.” 

Penelope looks up so she can drag her gaze over Hope’s body, admiring the way her drenched clothing clings to her curves. “As if I would ever miss this view?” 

Hope is already flushed from the exercise, so it’s easy to pretend she isn’t blushing. She flicks some mud at Penelope in fake annoyance. “Let’s go in.” 

Penelope obediently picks up her stuff and moves the shield with them as they walk, refusing to get her hair wet. 

It’s all very strange to Hope; Penelope complains constantly whenever Hope picks what they’re doing, but she always ends up coming along anyway. Hope can’t fathom why she’s not out gossiping with her followers or directing a political campaign or putting curses on white boys or whatever else Penelope Park did in her free time before she started spending it with Hope. Some of it must have been spent with Josie, but the rest… it’s a mystery to Hope.

She eyes Penelope as they make their way down the hall, trailing water behind them. “Do you have any hobbies? Besides like, breaking hearts and causing unnecessary drama?” 

Penelope’s thumbs are moving rapidly as she fires off a string of texts. Hope isn’t sure how she’s able to walk without looking where she’s going. “Who wants to know?” 

“The school newspaper.” Hope says dryly. “Me, obviously.” 

“The Salvatore Times knows I’m not available for interviews after the whole spring break article debacle.” Penelope says breezily as they enter her room. “Don’t sit down, you’ll get everything wet. Go shower.” She makes shoeing motions towards her bathroom. Who is Hope to deny her?

Twenty minutes later, Hope emerges from Penelope’s bathroom, drying off her hair with a towel, dressed in Penelope’s old sweats. Thunder has begun to rumble outside, but it poses no threat when faced with the warmth of the room. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Which question?” Penelope is lounging on the couch, still reading while she uses one fingertip to direct a watering can to float around and water each plant. “You ask me so many, I can’t keep track.” 

“Hobbies, Park.” Hope whips her towel at the back of Penelope’s head before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “Do you have any?” 

“Why? Are we finally getting to know each other? Do you want to know my favorite color next?” Penelope’s expression turns lecherous. “Or wait, is this like middle school twenty questions? I ask you your favorite food and then you ask my bra size?” She leans forward, emphasizing her assets. “I’m a 32B, if you must know.”

_ Do not look down. Do not look down. Do not look- _

Hope’s gaze only flicks down for one second before she snaps back up to eye level, but it’s enough for Penelope’s smirk to turn even more smug. 

“Ugh. No. I just meant... We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. Don’t you think it’s weird that we don’t know anything about each other?

“I find an air of mystery does wonders for my reputation.” 

“And I find you to be unbearably pretentious.” Hope kicks at Penelope’s thigh until she scoots down so that Hope can stretch out her legs along the couch. “Answer the question.” 

“Alright, alright, hold on.” Penelope leans forward again, stretching to snatch a shoe box from under the couch. She whispers a spell to unlock the box, pulling out two glasses and a worn bottle of whiskey, and pours them both a liberal amount, balancing the glasses on Hope’s ankles. “I’m not bonding with you without the help of alcohol.” 

“Are we emotionally fucked up or just alcoholics?” Hope wonders aloud. 

Penelope tops off both of their glasses. “Why not both?” She passes one to Hope and brings her own glass to her lips, smoldering at Hope. “Now I’m ready. Go.” 

“Must you make everything such a production?” 

“It keeps life interesting.” 

Hope sighs. “I just wanted to know if you have any hobbies. Like, what do you do with your free time?” 

“Well I very rarely have free time, you know. I’m a popular girl, I get a lot of invitations to events and things.” 

“You go to Salvatore. I know ‘events and things’ just means the same party every week in the mill.” 

“Okay, fair.” Penelope pulls out her phone. “Should I just read you my tinder profile?” 

“You’re on tinder?” Maybe Hope does need a drink for this conversation. 

“Why is that such a surprise? Haven’t you heard I’m an evil temptress?”

“You know I’m friends with Josie, right? I know you were a secret romantic with her. No way are you hooking up with random people.” 

Penelope scowls. “Be quiet, Mikaelson. I have a reputation to uphold. Now let me read..” She holds up her phone and being reading. “Penelope Park. 20,”

“Liar.”

Penelope ignores her. “Scorpio, ESTP, bi and better than you. Likes: smashing the patriarchy, topping, and putting people in their place. Swipe right, I don’t bite.. unless you beg me to-“

“Okay, okay, enough!” Hope covers her ears with her hands. “I really didn’t need to know.” 

Penelope puts her phone away, satisfied. “Well, ask a different question, then.” 

“Alright… I’m not even going to ask favorite color because I know the answer will be the same shade of brown as Josie’s eyes-” Penelope sticks her tongue out at Hope “-so I guess… favorite food?”

“Are you asking what my favorite thing is to eat? Because I would think it’s obvious that I love to eat pu-”

“ _ Silencio _ !” Hope glares at the now-mute Penelope. “I swear to god, if you finish that sentence..”

Penelope pouts until Hope releases the spell. “Tsk, tsk. You say you want to get to know me, then I try to open my heart and this is what happens.” 

“You’re the worst. What’s your biggest pet peeve?” 

“Did you look these questions up ahead of time?” 

“You are my biggest pet peeve.” 

Penelope laughs. “You already know my answer for this. It’s when people think they’re hotter than me.” 

There’s a flash of lightning outside, illuminating Penelope’s profile. Hope studies her. “You’re lying.” 

“Seriously, what’s the point of asking me questions if you’re going to criticize all my answers?” 

“Well, if you actually gave me real answers, maybe I wouldn’t be critical!” 

“Okay, okay.” Penelope taps her nails against the glass in thought. “Hmm. Pet peeve… Let me think. I hate when people pretend to be someone they’re not, just to make others happy. Does that count?” 

Hope can sense this must be somehow Josie related, so she just nods. “Yeah, I’ll take it.” 

“Great, my turn.” Penelope props her chin on her hands. “What do you like doing in your free time? And don’t give me your usual angsty shit.” 

Hope bites her lip. She has to think about it, dig through the depths of her mind for the aspects of her personality that aren’t shrouded in tragedy. “Uh… I like art?”

“Hope Mikaelson!” Penelope clasps one hand to her chest with a gasp, leaning back in an exaggerated motion that makes the corners of Hope’s mouth involuntarily turn up in a smile, shifting her away from the darker path of her thoughts. “Are you telling me you could’ve been drawing me this whole time? I knew there was a reason I spent time with you.” 

Hope scoffs, tilting her head away so Penelope misses her grin. “As if I would ever draw you.” 

“Oh wait!” Penelope’s shocked expression shifts to mischievous, that glint in her eye that always signifies trouble. “You’ve already been drawing me, haven't you? Notebooks full of sketches of me, the object of your affections!” Penelope swoons backwards. 

“There’s no canvas in the world big enough to depict your ego.” Hope replies, catching Penelope’s glass before it spills. “Sorry, but I won’t be doing any portraits of you.”

“You say that now…” Penelope has that horrible glint in her eye, as if Hope has just challenged her. “But we’ll see!” 

Hope shakes her head and takes another sip of her drink. “Whatever you say, Park. Favorite movie?”

They trade questions back and forth for a while, Penelope’s answers ridiculous and Hope’s answered deceptively light. Eventually, Hope works up to the question she’s wanted to ask for months. When there‘s a lull in the conversation, she takes her chance. 

“Penelope… Did you really do that shit with the pens?” 

Penelope doesn’t so much as blink. She takes another swig of her drink, finishing it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Why?” 

“Does it matter? You’ve all already made up your minds about me.” She tilts her empty glass in Hope’s direction. 

Hope pours her another full glass and then tucks her legs beneath her, directing her full attention to the other woman. She will not lie to make Penelope feel better. “Probably not, no. Tell me anyway.”

Penelope sighs, stretching and making the liquid in her glass swirl, dangerously close to spilling over the edge, the soft material of her shirt riding up and exposing her skin. It is clearly an attempt to bring Hope’s attention to her body. It works. 

“It goes like this, Mikaelson. You ever heard the saying ‘What you don’t know can’t hurt you’? It’s not true.” She does not elaborate on the lesson that taught her this and Hope does not ask. “It’s better to know. Always. So I get to Salvatore and I think, how can I protect myself? How can I make sure I know everything I need to know? And that’s when it comes to me.” 

“You put an enchantment on everyone’s pens.” 

“I put an enchantment on everyone’s pens.” Penelope agrees. “Everything they write, I read. Everything they know, I know.” She takes a long, contemplative sip of her drink. “Objectively, I can see how it’s fucked up. But I really was only using the information for good.” 

“Do you still read them?” 

Penelope shakes her head. “I removed the spell after Josie found out.” 

Hope studies the young woman in front of her. “Do you regret it? Or did you only stop  _ because _ she found out?”

“Really asking the hard hitting questions today, huh?” Penelope smiles ruefully. “I don’t know.” She runs one perfect nail along the rim of the glass. “I didn’t know I was going to meet Josie, I didn’t know I was going to have someone to care about. I was trying to avoid that, actually.” She shakes her head as if she can’t believe how foolishly naive she was. “I was...” She clears her throat and sits up. “Well, it doesn’t matter.” 

Hope knows Josie’s side of the story; she knows how Josie confronted Penelope after the pageant, how Penelope cried, how Josie kissed her, then walked away. “What was in the letter you wrote Josie?”

Penelope’s face goes blank and unreadable.“Sorry, you’ve hit your limit on angst for the evening. Plus,” she waves her glass and shifts her expression to something lighter, “You just asked like four questions in a row. It’s my turn.” 

Hope presses her glass to her temple. “Fine. Go.” 

“First person you had sex with?” 

Hope glares. “You already know the answer is Landon.” 

“You have to ask more interesting questions! And I already know who you’re in love with, so…”

Hope flinches at the phrase. “Don’t call it that.”

“Fine. I already know who your crush is, so…” 

“I’m sorry I don’t know the right questions to ask. I didn’t have a lot of time for middle school sleepovers when I was younger, you know.” 

Penelope rolls her eyes, ignoring the angst and the sarcasm. “That’s why we’re doing it now, obviously. Should we paint our nails next? I can braid your hair.” 

Hope takes a lock of her hair and runs it between her fingers as if she’s really considering it. “And then what? We TP Landon’s room?” 

“You’ve got to think bigger. We can TP the whole library.” 

By 10pm, they’ve graduated from alcohol to ice cream borrowed from the kitchen.

Penelope is in the middle of a retelling of her worst date ever from when she was thirteen, gesturing dramatically with her spoon as she relays the tragic event. Hope is half listening, half trying to dig out the last piece of cookie dough from the ice cream before Penelope notices it’s gone. 

She pops the spoonful into her mouth triumphantly and looks up at Penelope and all of the sudden it hits her: 

She’s happy. Hope is sitting on Penelope Park’s old couch, hearing an extremely exaggerated version of a story that Penelope has supposedly never told anyone else, and she’s  _ happy _ . She’s having a good time. She’s smiling, she’s not worried about whatever calls from Alaric she’s missing, or the moral debate of whether she should exist or not, or the weight of the world on her shoulders. Hope is simply enjoying the moment. 

“Hello?” Hope is broken from her reverie by Penelope waving her spoon in front of her. “You’re not even listening.” 

“I am, I am.” Hope assures, weakened by Penelope’s pout. “I was just thinking… this is not so bad.”

“This is nice, is what you’re trying to say?” Penelope repeats, giving her a teasing smile. “Careful, my ego is big enough without all this flattery.” 

Hope swats Penelope on the arm as she passes the ice cream back. “You know what I mean, asshole.” 

“I do. I’m glad.” Penelope says. 

They hold eye contact for a long, poignant moment, blue watching hazel. 

Penelope breaks first, still smiling as she glances down into the ice cream carton. Her smile drops. “Wait, did you eat the last bite of cookie dough?!”

* * *

Hope gets back from fighting a sphinx just after dinner on Saturday. After she showers away the battle grit, she wanders her way to Penelope’s room. Not because Hope wants to see her, or anything, but just because it’s not like she has anything better to do, anyway. 

She slows down when she reaches the room because the door is slightly ajar. Hope frowns. “Hello?”

There’s a chorus of giggles from the other side of the door.

_ What the hell?  _ “... Park? You okay?” 

The door swings open to reveal a cluster of young girls in their Salvatore uniforms. They clutch at each other and squeal when they see Hope.

Hope steps back to make sure she’s at the correct room. “Uh.. hi there.” 

“Hi!!” One of the girls bounces forward with excitement. “You’re Penny’s friend, right? The cool one, that’s always out fighting battles?” 

Hope doesn’t know how to even start unpacking that sentence. “Penny?” She repeats weakly. 

The girl takes Hope by the hand and drags her to a nest of blankets on the couch. “Yeah, she says you can do spells AND be a wolf AND a vampire.” 

“Do you have fangs? Can we see?!”

“Shh, Jazmine, you can't just ask that!” 

The two girls break into a squabble, but the smallest one, clearly shy, just fists her hands in her sweatshirt and looks up at Hope curiously. 

Hope crouches down so they’re at the same eye level. “Hey. I’m Hope.” 

“...Layla.” The little girl mumbles. 

“That’s a beautiful name.” Hope tells her, and Layla smiles, still a little nervously, at the ground, and Hope gives her what she hopes is an encouraging smile back. “Are you Penelope’s friend too?” 

Layla nods. “Mhm… Miss. Penelope says whenever we’re sad about being away from home, we can come to her room and watch movies until we’re not sad. Are you here to watch movies?”

“Actually, I-” The door opens. 

“-alright, I found the red vines, but you’ll have to trade me for-” Penelope comes to a halt when she sees Hope sitting among the kids. “... Hope.” 

“Oh, hey  _ Penny _ .” Hope says, with possibly the biggest smirk she’s ever had. Penelope gives a little sigh and looks at one of the girls. 

“Nat.” Penelope seems to be trying for an admonishing tone, but it’s ruined by her fond smile. “What’s the rule about letting strangers in my room?”

“But it’s not a stranger! It’s Hope!!” The apparent leader of the trio says earnestly. 

Penelope levels Hope with a sly look. “Making friends?” 

“It appears that way.” 

“Ladies,” Penelope turns to the girls again, who are looking at her like she hung the stars. “Can I trust you three to pick a movie while I talk with Hope in the hall?” 

“Yes, Miss. Penelope!” 

Penelope passes the red vines to a beaming Layla and ushers Hope into the hall.

Hope turns on her as soon as the door closes. “Okay, what the fuck?”

Penelope smacks her lightly on the arm. “Shh. They’ll hear you.” 

“Penelope, are you secretly a softy? Oh my god, is everything I know about you a lie??” Hope laughs, ducking when Penelope tries to hit her again, dancing out of reach. “Look at you, being a surrogate mom.”

“They’re homesick, Hope! What am I gonna do, send them away? I just let them hang out until they feel better.” Penelope looks uncharacteristically bashful. “It’s not a big deal, alright?”

“It kinda is. I mean, the horrible Penelope Park is good with kids?? The head bitch herself?!” 

Penelope rolls her eyes even as she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “I have siblings. Had siblings. Whatever. Don’t make this a whole thing.”

Hope has several responses to that, because it's another vague offhand ominous comment from Penelope about her family, and because it’s strangely endearing to see Penelope look nervous. Then again, any glimpse of vulnerability from the witch makes Hope’s heart do something strange and twisty. It’s so rare- Penelope is always perfect and composed, unshaken by anyone- nothing throws her off her game. 

“Anyway, if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god, I will tell Lizzie your phone background is her selfie.”

Hope narrows her eyes. “You wouldn’t.” She knows Penelope would. 

“Just try me, Mikaelson.” 

Hope gives a long sigh. “Fine. So are you gonna let me join or what?”

Penelope makes a show of thinking it over. “I suppose, if you can behave yourself…” She sounds casual, but she hasn’t quite gotten the apprehensive look out of her eyes. Hope realizes Penelope is actually worried about this, as if letting Hope see that she does have a heart is  _ dangerous _ . 

She shifts from one foot to the other. “Listen, Park-”

Maybe Penelope can sense when an emotional moment is coming. “Okay, okay, fine, whatever. But be nice.” She waves Hope back into the room. 

“Penny!” Natasha comes bounding back up and grabs both of their hands. “Can we watch Moana? Please?”

It’s strange to watch Penelope interact with these kids. She looks gentler, somehow, less defensive, her voice softer. She lets them vote on the movie- “Hope doesn’t get to vote because she came late,”- and tucks them in the piles of blankets, Layla settling on her lap. 

“She used to let us braid her hair.” Jazmine informs Hope solemnly. “But it’s too short now.” 

“Oh, Hope likes it short.” Penelope says in a tone that should be rated PG-13. Hope can’t say anything out loud so she just gives Penelope a glare that says:  _ Don’t flirt with me in front of the children. _

But Penelope just lifts one eyebrow back and somehow Hope understands that to mean:  _ But I  _ _ can _ _ flirt with you if there aren’t children around?  _

Hope isn’t going to dignify that with a response so she just turns back to the movie. And Penelope can’t possibly know for sure that she likes her hair shorter, anyway.

They’re only two songs in when Layla looks up at Penelope. “Miss. Penelope, why aren’t you singing?” 

God, this is too good. Hope turns to Penelope with a sharp smile. “Yeah, Penny, why aren’t you singing?” She directs her next words to the girls. “Does she usually sing?” 

“Of course!” Jazmine holds out her hands to mime something. “And when we watch Frozen, she does the ice stuff just like Elsa.” 

“Does she really??” 

Penelope gives a long suffering sigh at the expectant look on the four faces. “Alright, alright, fine. Unpause the movie, I’ll sing.” She mutters something under her breath about babysitting  _ four _ children, but Hope is too entertained to be insulted. 

Penelope sings along to the rest of the movie. The girls do, too, and make valiant attempts to teach Hope the words. There’s an uproar when they find out Hope hasn’t see Frozen  _ or _ Mulan, so it’s immediately decided they have to watch those next, even with Penelope protesting that Hope surely has other things to do. The girls fall asleep halfway through Mulan, but when the credits roll Penelope starts up the Frozen without needing to ask if Hope is staying. 

“You’re good with them. The kids.” Hope says, keeping her head facing the screen. From the corner of her eye, she can see Penelope stiffen on the opposite end of the couch. Forcing her voice to stay artificially light, Hope continues: “Are they the ones who did the drawings above your desk?” 

Penelope looks like she would be quite literally running away from this line of questioning if not for the sleeping child on her lap. Hope can see her clenching and unclenching her jaw, the tension in her body obvious. Hope is about to retract her question entirely when Penelope speaks: “No. Those are from my siblings.” 

On the screen, the girl with white hair is making an ice castle. Hope seems to have missed a lot of the plot and character names while she was working up to asking Penelope about this. “Where are they now?” 

Another long pause. “I don’t know.”

Hope wants to ask more, she really does, but there’s a tremor in Penelope’s voice, a palpable vulnerability that she’s so unused to hearing in the confident woman’s tone. Instead, she switches to the first related topic she can think of. “Do you want to have kids someday?” 

Immediately, Hope cringes and Penelope smirks, although she still looks a little unsteady. “Why? Planning our life together with 2.1 kids and a minivan?” 

Hope is so relieved that Penelope isn’t upset that she doesn’t even roll her eyes at the comment. “I don’t imagine myself ever having kids.” 

Penelope finally shifts so they’re making eye contact. “Really? I always thought you and Lizzie would raise a little pack of puppies together.” 

Hope snorts. “Yeah, that’s realistic. With Aunt Josie and Aunt Penelope coming over every week for Sunday Dinner?” 

Penelope blanches, holding up her hands as if to ward off the words. “Hope, don’t speak such horrible things into existence. Lizzie Saltzman in my future? No thank you.” 

“That’s not a power I have, so I think you’re safe.” 

“Something Hope Mikaelson  _ can’t  _ do?! It is a dark day indeed.” 

Hope shakes her head, hiding a smile, and turns back to the movie. The silence between them is comfortable again, and she knows she should let it stay that way, but she can’t let it drop, not yet. “You’d be a good mom.” 

Penelope’s sharp intake of breath is loud in the space between them. 

Hope figures she might as well dig her hole deeper. “I mean. Obviously my opinion doesn’t mean much to you, anyway. And I’m probably not a very good judge because I’ve got like. Mommy issues.”

“And daddy issues. And authority issues. And childhood trauma. And-“

“Okay, I get it!” Hope says before Penelope can continue. “But for what it’s worth, I do think you’d be a good mom. That’s all I wanted to say.” 

The silence goes on for so long this time, Hope assumes the conversation has been dropped. She’s surprised when Penelope finally says, “Thanks.” 

Hope nods and they both go back to the movie, even though Hope definitely doesn’t understand how this snowman is alive. The rest of the movie is watched in silence, but it’s not a bad one. They fall asleep there, Penelope on one end of the couch and Hope on the other, the girls piled between them. 

-

Hope wakes up at 3 or 4 am, the moonlight hazy through the window. It takes her a moment to place where she is and why her neck is so stiff. She’s going to be sore from this sleeping position in the morning, but Hope is loathe to disturb the slumbering group, so she just pulls the blankets closer and shuts her eyes again. She’s already drifting back to sleep when a voice snags at the edge of her consciousness- Layla must be awake. Hope concentrates to hear the whispered conversation. 

“But is Josie going to come back?” 

Penelope inhales. “... No. She isn’t. But that’s okay. We’ll be alright without her.” She’s not quite successful at keeping the pain out of her voice. 

“Is Hope like Josie?” 

There’s a pause. “What do you mean, kid?” 

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Penelope laughs a little. “No. She’s not.” 

“Why not?” Layla’s whispered voice is sweet and naive. She can’t possibly realize how she’s making Hope squirm. 

“People can be just friends, Layla. You know that.” 

“I knowwww.” Now Layla sounds petulant. 

Hope wishes she could turn around to see the expression on Penelope’s face. “Come on, kid. What’s with all these questions?” 

“Umm…” Hope can hear Layla shifting nervously in the blankets. “Jazmine said that Natasha heard that Nia heard from Pedro that Lizzie Saltzman said you were… el oh en ee el why. And Natasha said that means you’re sad.”

“Lonely?” Penelope sighs. “I told you guys not to listen to gossip about me.” 

“I knowww.”

“Listen, Layla.” The sheer amount of fondness in Penelope’s voice is making Hope’s chest ache, for some reason. “You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t need a girlfriend. I have lots of regular friends. Like you guys.” 

“And Hope, right?”

Hope listens to the sound of Penelope’s steady breathing. 

“Yeah.” She says finally. “And Hope.” 

Hope closes her eyes again. 

* * *

The Salvatore students part like Moses at the sea as Hope storms down the hall. 

Hope Mikaelson acting strange is a normal occurrence to her classmates, so they know to stay out of her way when she’s on the warpath. Hope turns sharply right at the witches’ dorm entrance and makes her way to the now-familiar doorway of Penelope’s room. When no one answers Hope’s insistent knocking, she spins on her heel and makes her way to the steps in the hall where she suspects Penelope will be holding court. 

Sure enough, blocking anyone who might want to walk up the stairs is Penelope, surrounded by her usual flock. Hope crosses her arms at the bottom of the stairs and glowers at the back of Penelope’s head until Penelope turns her head. Hope intensifies her glare and gestures her head towards the hall to Penelope’s room several times. 

Penelope heaves a sigh as if she’s never been so inconvenienced and turns back to the girls. Hope can’t hear the conversation from here, but it’s only a few moments before the girls disseminate and Penelope makes her way down the steps like a queen in her throne room. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Penelope asks as Hope shepherds her back to the room so she can yell at her in private. 

“What have you been telling Alaric I’ve been doing?!” Hope hisses, making an attempt to keep her voice down. 

Penelope squints at an indiscriminate point in the distance as they walk. “Who?”

Hope feels a headache coming on. “Alaric. When I ‘wolf out’, as you so eloquently put it. What’s your excuse to Alaric?” 

“Hmm.” Penelope rubs her chin. “Alaric… Alaric… Nope, not ringing a bell.” 

“Penelope.” Hope growls.

“Okay, okay..” Penelope holds her hands up in mock surrender. “I said we were training.”

“What? Why would he believe that? Why would you need me to train you?”

Penelope clears her throat. “Uhh… you’re not training me, exactly.” She ducks into her room before Hope can comprehend what that means. 

“So you’re telling me…” Hope starts, making a visible effort not to grind her teeth as she follows Penelope in, “That Alaric Saltzman thinks the reason I’ve been busy lately is because YOU are training ME?!”

Penelope tosses her jacket onto a chair and examines her make up in the mirror, running her thumb along a non-existent lipstick smudge. “Well, when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”   
“Because it is!”

“Tsk, tsk.” Penelope makes a disapproving noise as she finishes surveying herself. “Surely you don’t think you’re above learning new things, Hope.”

“I’m above learning new things from  _ you _ .” Hope paces in a circle. “Penelope, what if he tells the twins?”

“He won’t.”

“What if he asks me to show him what I’ve learned?!”

Penelope’s voice floats out from the bathroom where she’s changing her outfit for the fourth time. “Then you show him what you’ve learned, obviously.”

“But I haven’t learned anything!” 

Penelope spritzes some setting spray on her face and steps out of the bathroom to give Hope a coquettish look. “But honey, there are  _ so _ many things I could teach you.” 

Hope shoves Penelope away and resumes pacing. “Ugh, I hate you.”

Penelope plops down on the couch to watch Hope pace, looking amused. “There’s really no need for all...” She waves her hand to encompass Hope, “this. I’ll just teach you some spells and it’ll be fine.” She twirls a piece of hair around her finger as she thinks. “Actually, this could be fun. Let’s duel!” 

“Duel?” Hope repeats dubiously. “What is this, Hogwarts?”

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

“I’ve literally seen your Slytherin tie in your closet.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Penelope says quickly. “Anyway, it’ll be good practice!” She darts over to her bookshelf to flip through one of her many spell books. “Training, even. Just like I told Alaric.”

“I know I say this a lot, but this is really a terrible idea.” 

“You always say that and you’re always wrong.” 

Hope shakes her head. “This time I really mean it. I am not dueling you. No way.”

-

Hope taps her foot impatiently as she watches Penelope draw out the arbitrary boundaries on the gym floor. “Remind me why we're doing this again?” 

“It’s called foreshadowing, Mikaelson. It’s a parallel for what’s going to happen later in the chapter.” 

“Well if it was good foreshadowing, you wouldn’t have to point it out, don’t you think?”

Penelope ignores her. “I think you’re just worried you’re going to lose.”

“Please.” Hope pulls her hair back as she scoffs. “I crushed you at regular sparring, I’ll crush you at this too.” 

“Oh honey, you crush-”

Hope waves a hand. “ _ Silencio. _ ” At Penelope’s silent glare, she says, “Do  **not** try to reuse your Josie lines on me.”

Penelope coughs as Hope releases the spell. “Okay, that’s fair. Ready?” She folds one arm across her body to grip her other arm and mutters, “ _ Fortitudinem. _ ” Her stance falls into something more sure. 

Hope rubs her temple. She’s got to stop getting into these situations. “Does it say something about your mental health that you keep trying to get me to fight you?” 

“ _ Prohibere _ .” 

Hope isn’t expecting it, so Penelope’s spell forces her back and onto her knees. She knows what Penelope is going to say even before she says it. 

“Always knew you’d get down on your knees for-”

“ _ Dimiterre _ !” Hope can’t use her hands, so the spell doesn’t have as much power as she’d like, but it still knocks Penelope off her feet, releasing her hold on Hope.

When Penelope stands up, she’s grinning, her eyes bright with the challenge, the magic flowing through her. She looks magnificent. “What does it say about you that you keep agreeing?” And then, before Hope can answer: “ _ Imperium fluctus malleus _ !” 

“ _ Obstructionum _ !” Hope blocks the shock wave before it can hit her and decides the time for banter is over. “ _ Incendium _ !” 

“ _ Eatenus exstinxisti. _ ” The flames surround Penelope extinguish. “I learned that one after Josie burned off my hair.” Penelope informs her. They’re circling each other now, moving slowly around the boundaries and waiting for the other to strike. “ _ Hasmatos Pyrox Morsinus Illum _ !” 

It’s a strong pain spell, one that Hope barely manages to stop. “ _ Praesidio _ !” She follows her shield spell with another attack: “ _ Passim _ !” 

A volley of spells shoot across the room as the two witches continue to exchange verbal blows, both avoiding the majority of the attacks. It’s invigorating, the energy vibrating through Hope’s body as she moves. It’s a nice chance to test the range of her power, to give in to her instincts without having to worry that she’s going to die and to feed on the exhilaration coming off of Penelope in waves, the thrill of a worthy opponent. 

Penelope’s next spell slides her backwards to the very edge of the boundary line and she realizes there isn’t enough time to block; she needs to attack or Penelope will win this whole thing. So Hope isn’t thinking, she just shouts it: “ _ Lec tare sel vipre _ !” before she remembers how powerful the spell is. Her competitor isn’t prepared- Penelope is too slow to block and goes flying backwards, smashing into and through the wall when the spell hits her.

Hope snaps out of battle mode immediately. “Oh, fuck. Penelope!” 

“Ouch.” Penelope wheezes as Hope telepathically throws the wreckage of the wall off of her. 

“Oh shit. Fuck.” Hope darts through the haze and helps Penelope sit up. “Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?”

“It's fine, it’s fine.” Penelope feebly brushes away Hope’s worried hands. “Although, if you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was-”

“Ugh.” Hope drops Penelope back into the rubble. “Why do you always make it impossible to feel bad for you?” 

“All part of the plan, babe.” Penelope actually winks, even though her head is literally bleeding. 

“Shut up and help me get you to the infirmary.” 

“No, no.” Penelope sits up in agitation, wincing when the pain worses. “Also, I think my wrist is broken.” 

“Fuck. Pen, come on. You need a healer.” 

“We can’t go to the infirmary.” Penelope grabs Hope’s arm with her good hand and struggles to stand. “You’ll get in trouble.” 

“It’s just Alaric, he’ll be fine.” Hope pulls Penelope’s arm over her shoulder to help her walk. 

“Not from Alaric.” Penelope closes her eyes as if to stave off the pain, leaning on Hope’s shoulder. “Some people take coven loyalty very seriously around here. They won’t understand we were just messing around.” 

Hope is seriously starting to wonder if her entire life is one big joke. “Oh my god. I’m going to be murdered by your fangirls.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Penelope drops down onto the bench Hope has helped her to. “It’s fine. You can just heal me, then we’ll fix the wall and no one will ever know.” 

“Heal you? Absolutely not, no. I can’t.” Hope is busy mentally taking a vow that she’ll never ever use magic around Penelope ever again, because it doesn’t matter that it’s Penelope Park- someone she just barely tolerates- she still hates hurting people. 

Penelope mumbles something under her breath that sounds like “what a martyr,” then tries to sit up, quickly falling back down. “Shit.” 

Hope drops to her knees next to the bench so she can prop a hand under Penelope’s back and hold her up. “Okay, okay. Just a healing spell. Easy. Fine. I can do that. No problem.”

“You’re really inspiring confidence here, babe.” Penelope’s voice is strained and her breathing is shallow, but she’s still managing to annoy Hope. 

“Shut up and let me focus.” Hope murmurs, setting one hand on Penelope’s wrist and the other at her collarbone. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, centering herself. “ _ Sana has iniurias. Delens dolor. Sana has iniurias. Delens dolor _ .” 

Hope feels the spark of magic at her fingertips, flowing from her hands to Penelope’s injuries, knitting her skin back together until there’s no trace of even a scar, setting the bone. When it’s finished, she sits back with a heavy exhale. “Better?”

“To be honest? That was hot.” 

Hope opens her eyes. “Are you healed or not?”

Penelope sits up with a satisfied groan, cracking her back and then dusting the plaster rements from her shirt. “Yep. Nice and easy. Pretty good way to practice healing spells, right?”

It takes a moment for Penelope’s words to sink in. 

“Holy shit.” Hope says as it dawns on her, “Did you deliberately get hurt so that I would have to heal you? Was this your idea of some sort of fucked up training exercise?” 

Penelope doesn’t even have to answer, because Hope can see it on her face. 

“Oh my god.” She shoves Penelope back. “I can’t believe you!”

“Hey, my methods gets results- Mikaelson!” Penelope breaks into a jog as Hope stomps away from her. “Hope! Hope, come on, wait!” 

“You know.” Hope whips around, stopping Penelope in her tracks. Her voice is just shy of trembling, “You know I’m afraid of hurting the people around me and you let me do it anyway!”

“Well I-” Penelope props her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed at Hope’s unexpected reaction. “I didn’t know it would be a big deal!”

“I’m a Mikaelson, Penelope! Do you have any idea how many people expect me to like, ruin the world? How many deaths are my fault? And you think it’s fucking fun to let me think I hurt you?!” Hope is not going to cry in front of Penelope again. She turns towards the school and storms off, lengthening her strides so Penelope can’t catch up. 

“Hope!” 

A cluster of passing students gives Penelope a weird look as she runs by, reminding Penelope not to make a scene, lest anyone find out that Hope and Penelope actually speak to each other. She lowers her voice as she catches up to the tribrid, grabbing for her hand. 

“Listen, I didn’t think you’d care. It was just me!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hope snarls, pulling her wrist from Penelope’s grip. “It doesn’t matter who it is, it doesn’t matter if I hate you, I don’t want to hurt innocent people, okay?! I don’t want to be like my father!” Her voice cracks on the last word. 

Penelope’s protest dies on her lips. Her arms fall to her sides and she sighs. “Look… I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.” 

Hope leans back against the door and sighs too, taking in Penelope’s slumped stance and hangdog expression. “You should be.” 

“I really didn’t think it would be a big deal. I just think you need to practice. This school barely teaches offensive spells, much less the information you need to survive out there while you’re fighting every night.”

Hope crosses her arms. “I’ve been doing this for years!”

“And look how often you come back injured!” Penelope huffs, frustrated. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hope pauses with her mouth open, another argument on the tip of her tongue. “... what?” 

Penelope seems to realize what she’s said a moment after Hope makes the connection and starts to backpedal. “You know, like cause Josie would be sad if you died and Lizzie would probably blow up the school or something.” 

“Oh my god.” Hope blinks in surprise as it starts to make sense. “You’re worried about me.”

Penelope blanches. “I am not! If fact, if you died, it would be good for me; the amount of information I’d have to hear about Lizzie Saltzman would go down exponentially.” 

“Penelope Park is worried about little ol’ me?” Hope clasps her hands together and gives a giddy sigh. “Oh, how sweet!” It’s unexpected, very unexpected, if she thinks about it. But if Hope thinks about it too much, she’ll panic, so she’s not going to think about it. Plus, it’s not really a big deal if Penelope cares about her, right? That doesn’t mean Hope has to care back. 

“Fuck off.” Penelope pushes her away by the shoulder, but there’s a hint of a smile at her lips. “I really am sorry, alright? I’m not good at helping people, clearly.” 

“Clearly. You’re an idiot.” Hope says, ignoring the squeezing feeling in her chest that she can’t identify. “Don’t pull that shit again. I mean it.” 

Penelope crosses her heart and holds up one hand. “I won’t. Cross my heart.”

“Does that work if you don’t have one?” 

“Good question.” Penelope looks down at their singed, dirty clothes and the hole in her skirt from the debris. “Now, for a more important one- do we go to dinner looking like this? I think it would really stir up the rumor mill.” 

Hope shakes her head, already walking back the way they came. “You know we have to go back and fix the wall, right?”

Penelope groans. 

* * *

“You know who’s been awfully quiet lately? The devil herself.” Lizzie uses a pencil to point at Penelope as she walks past the library window, flocked by her followers. 

“She’s probably just lying low while she thinks of her next scheme.” Josie mutters, scribbling something down on her notes. 

The three of them are sitting in the library, ostensibly doing homework, although really only Josie is working, with Hope occasionally making a halfhearted effort and Lizzie not even opening her books. It’s the week before Thanksgiving and the Salvatore students are restless with the knowledge that the winter break is only a few weeks away. 

“Maybe she’s changed now that Josie’s moved on.” Hope suggests without thinking. 

Both twins look at her as if she’s speaking a foreign language.

“Penelope Park? Changed?” Josie asks doubtfully. 

“Some people are just evil, Hope. That doesn’t change.” Lizzie sighs, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “But you’re right; Josie’s moved on. No point in stressing ourselves over the lives of inferior exes. And anyway,” She waves a hand to dismiss the thought, “she’s irrelevant now. A season one character in a season two fic.” 

“Speaking of moving on,” Hope turns to Josie to avoid anymore talk of Penelope, in case she gives something away, but also because her stomach is churning uncomfortably with something that feels like guilt, “How did you and Landon happen? What did I miss this summer?” 

Hope suspects Josie is worried that Hope is upset with Josie dating her ex, but Hope isn’t about to tell her that she doesn’t care who Landon dates because she’s in love with Josie’s sister. She gives Josie an encouraging look to show her that she genuinely isn’t mad.

As Josie tentatively describes her and Landon’s journey to love, Hope can’t help but glance over at Lizzie repeatedly. Lizzie is strangely supportive, contributing to Josie’s story and acting as if she is enjoying the conversation. Normally Lizzie groans at the first mention of Landon Kirby. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Hope observes when the talk of Jandon has finished. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? My work paid off, my mind is sharp, all perceived mental breakdowns were a figment of my imagination fed by two manipulative vampires who will remain forever my enemies. I’ve never been better!” Lizzie sits back in her seat, looking satisfied. 

Hope blinks, waiting for an explanation, then exchanges a look with Josie. 

“Do I even want to know what all that means?” 

Josie shakes her head. “You really don’t.” 

“And! And I’m happy we’re friends, finally.” Lizzie adds in, directing her words to Hope. “No more fighting. We’re like… the three musketeers. Or one of those superhero groups MG is always talking about. But like, much cooler.” 

Hope attempts to smile in a normal, not smitten, way. “I’m happy too.”

“Look at us.” Lizzie shifts back, putting her arms around her sister and Hope. Hope leans into the touch. “Clear hearts and minds. Letting the power of our intellect rule the day over our emotions. Moving forward with dignity and grace. This is the true definition of girl power. I'm proud of us.”

When the twins leave later, Hope sits back in her chair, contemplating. Maybe she does have a chance with Lizzie. Maybe she should… actually do something about it? The thought fills Hope with terror, but underneath that… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to actually be happy, for a change. To see something she wants and go for it, instead of making herself suffering quietly in the background of her own life. 

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Hope glances up, jolted from her thoughts, to see Penelope approaching. “Waiting for you to walk into my life.” 

“You’re flirting back?” Penelope raises an eyebrow. “You must really be in a good mood. Did you see Lizzie today or something?” 

“Maybe I did.” Hope attempts to be coy. “But I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Please.” Penelope scoffs as she drops her stuff down on the floor and falls into the chair next to Hope. “If you and Lizzie kissed, you’d be passed out right now.”

“Your characterization of me is way off. I’m not some blushing virgin, you know.”

“Oh I know, normally you’re pretty badass.” Penelope is looking in a handheld mirror and fixing her hair, so she doesn’t see Hope’s surprise at the compliment. “But then you go within five feet of Lizzie Saltzman and suddenly you’re all ‘stolen glances’ and ‘trembling hands’. It’s disgusting.” 

“Wha- I am not!” She thinks back to her earlier conversation with the twins. “Not all the time, anyway.” 

“Mhm.” Penelope makes a skeptical noise of agreement while she applies lipstick. “Very convincing.” She smacks her lips, winks at herself in the mirror, and closes it. “So you’re good?” 

Hope thinks the question over instead of automatically saying she’s fine, if only because Penelope will pester her until she tells the truth. “Yeah, I think so. Not too many monsters to fight this week, been sleeping. Lizzie seems really happy lately too.” 

She knows Penelope is going to give her shit for saying something sappy like that, so she’s surprised when a shadow passes over Penelope’s face instead. “Have you met that new kid? Sebastian?”

Hope frowns at the abrupt subject change. “Yeah, I guess so. Why?” 

Penelope hums thoughtfully. “Just wondering. More importantly, did you hear Landon and Josie went on a date to Mystic Grill?!” Her face scrunches in disgust. “I mean, fucking Mystic Grill? I can’t even think of a less romantic place.” 

This is not the first time Hope’s heard a Penelope rant about some Josie/Landon related gossip. For all Penelope pretends she’s above such a petty activity as gossiping, she’s always caught up with everything happening around the school, always filing away information in her head. “Knowledge itself is power, Hope.” Penelope is always telling her, though she still won’t explain why she needs to know everything all the time. 

They’re really quite a pair, Hope and Penelope. Their alliance makes no sense at all- Hope prefers time stay in the background and go unnoticed, Penelope effortlessly commands the attention in any room she enters; Hope sees her life as a cosmic mistake, Penelope sees her life as a gift to the world; Hope is afraid to care about anyone and Penelope is afraid to let anyone care about her- and yet somehow, they keep finding their way back to each other. 

“I hate to cut this riveting rant short-” Penelope pouts at Hope’s sarcastic tone, “-but Alaric is calling.” Hope flashes her phone screen at Penelope to show her. 

Penelope sighs dramatically. “Always another monster to fight, world to save, I know the drill. Come find me if you get back early.” 

Penelope does not wish Hope luck or tell her to be safe, and Hope leaves without saying goodbye. 

* * *

It’s not unusual for Penelope to skip class. When she is in class, she just shows up the teachers or gossips in the back with her fans, and when she isn’t, she claims she had ‘coven business’ to attend to, which Hope is pretty sure is just code for ‘smoking weed behind the gym with MG’. Either way, there’s no reason for Hope to feel unsettled when Penelope doesn’t show up for class on Friday. 

And yet, she is. Hope can’t help but shoot glances towards Penelope’s empty desk (even without her here, the rest of the class knows better than to try to take her spot). In the spellcasting class that Hope has with Josie- so they sit far, far away from Penelope- Josie has to poke Hope twice to get her attention; she’s too focused on checking the door every time it opens, in case Penelope should appear. 

By the time sixth period comes around, Hope feels restless. She almost considers approaching Penelope’s group of followers to ask if they've seen her, but thinks better of it. Neither of them need the rumors doing that would spark. When the final bell rings, Hope says goodbye to Josie, and by extension, Landon, and makes her way towards Penelope’s room as inconspicuous as possible. She doesn’t even spare a moment to feel excited about the wave she exchanges with Lizzie when Hope passes her in the hall.

When she knocks, it takes a long time for Penelope to answer, and Hope can feel the anxiety roiling in her gut. 

Penelope answers the door but stays in front of the opening, barring Hope’s entry. “Mikaelson. What do you want?”

She feels a little better, seeing that Penelope is alright, but the question throws Hope, if only because they haven’t needed an excuse to hang out for weeks now. Penelope usually just shows up with plans. 

“I came to see why you weren’t in class.” 

“So, you missed me.” 

Hope doesn’t know why she even bothers. “Actually, I-” she pauses, her eyes narrowing. “Wait, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Penelope wraps her arms around her chest. “Nothing.” Her voice is strangely muted. “You know it’s rude to point out that a girl looks different without makeup.” 

Hope squints, trying to figure out what it is that’s different about Penelope, besides the lack of makeup. Her eyes are unfocused and she’s flushed and sweaty, moisture visible at her temples, her hair ruffled. It sets off alarm bells in Hope’s head, because Penelope always somehow looks immaculate. She still looks unfairly gorgeous, of course, but slightly less put together, which feels like a big deal since Penelope never lets herself be anything other than perfect in front of others. 

On a hunch, Hope reaches up and presses the back of her hand to Penelope’s forehead. 

Penelope tries to dodge a moment too late. “Ugh, don’t.” She swats Hope’s hand away. 

“You’re burning up.” 

“I know I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re hot.” Hope interjects before Penelope can finish. “I mean you have a fever.” 

“No I don’t.” 

Hope sighs and steps into the room, Penelope again moving too late to stop her. 

“Don’t vampires have to ask permission to enter a home?” Penelope grumbles, but even her quips lack her usual edge. 

“You’re sick, you idiot.” Hope puts one hand on Penelope’s chest and walks her backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed. Penelope falls back onto the bed with very little resistance. 

“It’s hot when you‘re the domme.” Penelope mumbles, before she curls up into the fetal position and starts coughing. 

“Yeah, you really seem ready to have sex right now.” 

“You-” Penelope hacks again, “-wish.” 

Hope looks critically at the lump that is Penelope on the bed. “Have you taken anything?”

“No, because I’m not sick.” Penelope gropes around the sheets for her phone. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be fine.” 

“Ahuh. Should I…” Hope is going to offer to like, get her some medicine or something, but she’s afraid that might make it look like she cares. “I mean…”

Penelope pausing her coughing, holds up one hand to silence Hope, then snaps her fingers. A large bowl appears on the floor next to the bed, just as she tips over to the side and vomits harshly into it, retching. Hope winces in sympathy.

“I was trying for a bucket.” Penelope looks mournfully down at the bowl when she finishes, Hope still standing unsure at the foot of the bed. 

“That’s not the first time that’s happened today, huh?” The sight of Penelope lying limply on the bed is an oddly pathetic one. It’s making Hope have strange urges, like taking Penelope into her arms and never letting anything hurt her ever again. 

“No.” Penelope mutters, turning herself back over with effort. “But I was hoping it would stop.” Now that Hope can see she’s sick, Penelope appears to have given up on trying to act like she’s alright. That’s probably the biggest indicator that she really must be feeling bad. 

Hope shakes her head in judgement. “Should I go find you some medicine?” 

“It won’t help. I’m dying.” Penelope moans, rolling over to bury her face in the pillows. 

“You have a cold, you drama queen.” 

“Will you speak at my funeral? I want a tasteful eulogy. No priests. And don’t let Lizzie attend. I don’t need you two making out on my coffin, or whatever else she’s into.”

Hope wonders how Penelope has the energy to make sarcastic comments but not to hold her own body up. She’s sure Penelope is bringing up Lizzie to try to distract her, so she won’t let it work. “Alright, enough. No dying. I’m the martyr in this relationship, remember?” She goes into the bathroom to root through Penelope’s drawers for some Advil. 

“Oh, so we’re in a relationship now?” 

Hope rolls her eyes as she comes back with two pills and a glass of water. “Sit up, you need to take these.” 

Penelope just groans. 

“Park. Seriously.” Hope puts the glass down so she can poke at Penelope’s languishing body. 

“I don’t wanna.” 

“But it will make you feel better.”

“I don’t carrrrrrre.”

“Fine, suffer!” Hope throws her hands up in defeat. 

“Ugh.” Penelope pushes herself halfway up so she can grab at the pills, grimacing as she swallows. “You’re a terrible doctor.” She falls back down on the bed. 

“Well, you’re a terrible patient.” Hope informs her, though she considers it concerning that Penelope missed an opportunity to toss some line about nursing her back to health. “Do you have any other half-hearted insults or can I go?” 

“You’re leaving?” Penelope looks genuinely distraught. The fever must be fucking with her head. 

“I’m not going to stay here and get sick.” Technically, Hope can’t even catch human viruses, but there's something too intimate about thought of taking care of Penelope. She’s stuck between the primal urge to protect Penelope and the logical urge to protect herself from caring. 

“ _ Resistus maledi _ .” Penelope waves one limp hand. “There. You’ll be fine.” 

“That’s not even how that spell works.” Hope points out, but she perches on the end of the bed awkwardly. It does feel wrong to just abandon Penelope when she’s like this. “... Did you need something else?” 

“Come here.” Penelope mumbles. 

“What?”

She reaches one hand out and tugs petulantly on the end of Hope’s shirt until Hope slides over, back against the headboard, sitting next to Penelope. Then Penelope rolls onto her side and wraps her arms around Hope’s waist, tucking her head against Hope’s hip. Hope immediately stiffens. 

“Is this okay?” Penelope’s voice is muffled by the fabric; Hope can feel the vibration of her words through her shirt. Sickly heat is pouring off of Penelope’s body, and whatever uncertainty Hope has about being this close to the other girl is pushed aside by the more immediate flood of concern. Plus, healthy Penelope would never be this clingy and vulnerable. 

The issue is that Penelope’s hand is fisted in Hope’s shirt, which means her fingers are brushing Hope’s bare skin. Maybe it’s because she isolated herself since the death of her parents, but Hope can go days without having any physical contact with anyone, except maybe whatever villain she’s stabbing that week. Which means every touch she does receive from Penelope, however rare, feels amplified and electric, impossibly warm and  _ right _ . It takes everything she has not to lean into Penelope’s embrace, wanting her touch, not in a romantic or sexual way, even, but simply for the comfort that it brings. 

Hope clears her suddenly dry throat. “Yeah. It’s fine.” 

But she can’t relax, her posture stiff in Penelope’s hold. 

“Mikaelson. I’m too ill to figure out what the angst is for.” Penelope feebly lifts her head to look up at Hope, her eyes glazed with fever. “You can leave if you’re uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not.” Hope says, too quick to be believable, and Penelope drops her head back down with a sigh, mumbling something Hope can’t hear. 

Even though she thinks it’s a mistake, she wills herself to relax, the tension in her shoulders leaking out slowly as she slumps into Penelope’s hold. “Really, it’s fine.” 

Penelope waits until Hope has actually relaxed. “In that case, you can play with my hair. If you want.” 

It’s the tentativeness in Penelope’s voice that stops Hope from immediately saying no. Penelope is always asking for things and she rarely gets refused by anyone other than Hope. Hope likes to think she’s mostly resistant to Penelope’s charms, so she doesn’t have an issue saying no to Penelope’s many requests, but this one feels different.

“My mom used to. When I was a kid.” Penelope adds, defensive when Hope doesn’t respond, and maybe it’s the surprise of Penelope sharing something about her past that lets Hope say “Yeah. Mine too.” 

There are a lot of topics that go unspoken between the two of them, but parents are definitely most taboo. Hope is ready to deflect further questioning, but Penelope only hums in acknowledgement; Hope is suddenly grateful for Penelope’s lack of interest in anyone other than herself. 

So she tentatively runs her hands through Penelope’s dark waves. Penelope tilts up into the touch, encouraging Hope to repeat the motion. On her fourth caress, she lets her nails drag lightly on Penelope’s scalp and Penelope lets out a low, pleased noise that makes Hope’s heart rate pick up. “Okay?”

“Feels nice..” Penelope‘s voice is teetering off towards incoherent, and the medicine has definitely kicked in because she’s falling asleep, her feverish body going limp against Hope’s. Hope keeps stroking her hair until Penelope’s breathing evens out.

——

Hope isn’t a fan of using magic casually the way Penelope does, but she uses a quick summoning charm to bring her books and phone over to the bed so she doesn’t have to attempt to extract herself from Penelope’s arms. She tries to get some reading done while the afternoon fades to evening, but her eyes keep straying to the girl in her lap.

Penelope’s sleep is restless and stilted; she mumbles words that Hope doesn’t catch as she shifts beneath the layers of blankets. 

Hope sets her book aside when she feels Penelope returning to consciousness. 

“You’re warm.” Penelope’s voice is still heavy with sickness and Hope feels a spike of worry, wondering if she’s doing something wrong, if she can’t help people, only hurt them. 

She’s distracted from this by Penelope burrowing closer, seeking her body heat. She’s like a koala, clinging so close that she’s half on top of Hope. It’s the closeness that lets Hope realize Penelope is shaking, her body racked with tremors that make Penelope’s teeth click.  _ Fuck _ . She should do something. 

“I’m not dying, Hope.” Penelope murmurs, as if she can tell what Hope’s thinking. 

Hope’s never going to give her the satisfaction of admitting that, though. “A girl can dream.” 

Penelope snorts, even though it comes out as a sort of tangled cough in her current state. “Please. This school wouldn’t know what to do without me around! You and the wonder twins would have a mutiny on your hands.” 

“You’re delirious.” Hope points out.

“I’m still right.” Penelope makes a noise of discomfort as she attempts to get closer, thought at this point, Hope is pretty sure that’s impossible. “And cold. And achy. And cold. Why is it so cold? Aren’t werewolves supposed to be warm?” 

“That’s the fever, dummy.” 

“You’re always  _ so _ sweet to me.” Penelope’s usual husky, sarcastic drawl is looser and slurred in her current state; it’s terribly endearing. 

But the level of intimacy that is occurring is starting to make Hope sweat internally. “Let me go get some more blankets.” She starts to roll out from under Penelope and get up and is halted by Penelope’s surprisingly firm grip. Hope frowns. 

“What?”

Penelope’s glassy eyes are pleading. She shakes her head. “Don’t.” 

“Don’t what? You’re shivering, I’m just going to-”

Penelope flings her other arm dramatically over her face. “Don’t make me say it. I’m sick! Can’t you spare me this one mercy?” 

Hope stands and reaches down to start prying Penelope’s fingers off her wrist. “Okay, I don’t understand your feverish riddles, so let me just-”

“Don’t leave me.” Penelope’s voice is small as releases Hope’s wrist and curls in on herself. “Please don’t go.” 

Hope rocks back on her heels in surprise. She feels the familiar panic begin to slither up her spine as she inhales. _Penelope is sick_. She reminds herself. _It’s not like she actually wants you._ _It’s not like you actually care. _Yes, that she can handle. _This doesn’t have to mean anything_. 

The decision is made for her when Penelope sits up abruptly, gagging, and it’s only Hope’s supernatural reflexes that summon a bucket onto Penelope’s lap in time. 

“Ugh.” Penelope gags into the container again. Hope gathers Penelope’s hair away from her face. It’s too short to pull back with a hair tie, so Hope just holds it with one hand, her other hand stroking Penelope’s back. She doesn’t know what else to do, really, standing next to the bed like the world’s worst nurse. 

“I’m good.” Penelope croaks when the heaving slows. “You can go.” 

Hope restrains herself from rolling her eyes. “And deal with an angry mob at my door when you die? I think not.” 

“I’m fine.” Penelope insists, clambering out of bed to prove it and immediately staggering to the side, Hope catching her before she falls. It might be romantic, Penelope loosely entangled in Hope’s arms, if not for the fact that Penelope doesn’t seem aware she’s even out of bed. 

“Okay!” Hope steers Penelope to the bathroom, propping her against the sink. She manages to get Penelope to swallow two more pills and then sets her up with a toothbrush. “You’re going to brush your teeth and drink this glass of water while I go get some blankets. Got it?” 

Penelope looks blankly at the toothbrush in her hand like she’s never seen one before. Hope pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, just.. wait here and don’t move.” 

She hurries through the darkened halls to her room to grab whatever blankets she can find in her room. As an afterthought, she grabs an old sweatshirt too, just in case. When she gets back to Penelope’s room, she’s dismayed to find Penelope on her knees in front of the toilet, having just finished vomiting the last of whatever was left in her stomach. 

“Shit.” Hope tosses the blankets on the bed and hurries to Penelope’s side.

“‘M fine.” Penelope mutters. She’s shivering again though, so Hope just shakes her head and stands them both up. She maneuvers them back to the room, sits Penelope down on the side of the bed, and helps her pull on Hope’s sweatshirt. Penelope tucks her chin into the collar.

“Smells like you.” She mumbles. “Good.” 

Hope is glad there are more immediate issues to attend to, so she doesn’t have to think about the way Penelope in her clothes makes Hope feel warm inside. Instead, she moves Penelope back under the covers, piling the blankets on before she situates herself next to the invalid. 

Penelope blinks up at her, dazed. “Hope! You came back!” 

Hope brushes some stray strands of dark hair off of Penelope’s forehead. “Mhm. Go back to sleep now.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Penelope hums as she folds herself into Hope’s side, nestling her head below Hope’s chin and sliding one leg over Hope’s. “Is this okay?” 

Hope hates how her dumb body’s immediate response is  _ yes, yes, yes. God, yes _ . She swallows, sliding one arm under Penelope’s head to cradle her close. “Yeah.” 

“Mkay. Everything is blurry so I’m going to sleep now.” The childlike sound of Penelope’s voice is so unlike her usual seductive, pointed tone that Hope smiles. “You do that.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” 

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Penelope?”

“Yeah?”

“Go to sleep.” 

“Yes, dear.” 

Hope waits until she’s sure Penelope is asleep to press a fleeting kiss to her forehead. She knows she should go, but she falls asleep beside her instead. 

—

When Hope wakes up next, it’s still dark outside. She’s momentarily confused about where she is until she rolls over and comes face to face with a sleeping Penelope Park. 

The reason why Hope’s woken up becomes clear. Penelope is writhing in the sheets, her skin damp with sweat even though she’s still shivering, although from the fever or the nightmare, Hope isn’t sure. She’s muttering again, but this time she keeps crying out, her face contorted in fear. 

“Park. Penelope!” Hope grips one of Penelope’s shoulders to stop her movement. “Penelope, wake up!” 

“Jojo?” Penelope sits up abruptly in the darkness, blinking in confusion, her voice hoarse with fever. 

Hope lets her hands fall back to her side. “No, it’s just me. Hope.”

“Is Josie okay? Where is she?” Penelope whispers, looking frantic, still half asleep, and Hope feels horrible that she has to be the one to break her heart like this. 

“She’s okay. She’s fine, she’s-” She doesn’t know how to explain that Penelope can’t go check on Josie anymore. “I’m sure she’s in her room. Everyone’s fine.” 

Penelope scrubs at her eyes with her fists. “Fuck. I-” Her shoulders slump as she leans back against the headboard; Hope can see the exact moment reality sets in and Penelope remembers. “Oh.”

There’s a pause. 

“Sorry for waking you.” And then, as if she needs to change the subject: “Fuck, it’s hot.” She pulls off the sweatshirt and starts wrestling with her shirt, but there’s no way in hell Hope is going to be in a bed with a shirtless Penelope Park. 

“ _ Ventus _ .” Hope hisses, waving her hand to blow a cooling breeze over Penelope. Penelope moans with relief, and Hope is glad the room is too dark for Penelope to see her blush. She passes Penelope the glass of water and she drinks greedily. 

“Your fever is breaking.” Hope explains. “That’s why you’re warm. It’s a good thing.” She knows because she’s been googling ‘how to treat a fever’ on her phone under the covers; not because she  _ cares _ , of course, but just to see how much longer she’ll have to stay here.

“I know how a fever works.” Penelope says, the condescension of her words erased by the half smile she attempts to hide behind the glass. She places the glass on the nightstand and sprawls her body across the bed, on top of the covers. “So what’s the prognosis, doc?” She appears to be trying to merge with the mattress. 

“I think you’ll live.” Hope says, with more relief in her tone than she intends. “Is there… do you need anything else?” 

Penelope keeps her eyes closed. “You don’t have to save everyone all the time, you know. You don’t owe us anything.” Her voice is too unaffected to make the comment an insult; it almost comes off as reassuring. Except, of course, the last person Hope expects reassurance from is Penelope Park. 

“I know.” 

“Do you?” Penelope cracks one eye open to peer at her, as if anything else would be too much effort. “Because I’m the  _ last  _ person you’d ever want to help and yet here you are, keeping vigil over my sickbed.” 

Hope deflects. “You must be feeling better, your perchance for dramatics is returning.” 

“It never left.” Penelope utters dryly, letting her eyes close again. “Seriously though, you don’t have to stay.” 

This much is true. The vomiting has stopped and the shivering seems to have faded away. Penelope still sounds and looks unwell, but the worst of the fever has passed. And yet… 

“You’re not the  _ last  _ person I’d help.” Hope’s hands flutter uselessly in front of her as she tries to find the right words. 

“It’s fine, Mikaelson. You don’t have to- It’s fine.” 

There’s resignation in Penelope’s tone and Hope feels a twinge of guilt. She can’t tell if that’s Penelope’s intended effect or if the trials of this sickness have stripped away her defenses and lies. “Do you think you’ll remember any of this tomorrow?”

“The odds do not seem in my favor.” Penelope says blearily. 

“Then…” Hope pauses, ignoring her instinct to get the fuck out of this conversation, “you should know I’m here because I want to be. And I’m not trying to save you, I just… want to help, I guess.” 

Penelope’s lips stretch in a slow, sleepy smile against the blankets. “Sap.” 

“You like it.” Hope counters, although she doesn’t really believe that. 

“I do.” Penelope’s voice is fading again. “You’re not so bad, Mikaelson.” 

“Compliments don’t mean anything if you only say them when you’re delirious.” 

“I compliment you when you’re awake too.” Penelope hums, stretching. “You’re just never listening.” 

Hope sighs, brushing Penelope’s hair away from her face again. “Seems like you’re feeling alright. Go back to sleep, okay? 

“I think a kiss would make me feel even better.” 

Hope rolls her eyes. “And I think a punch would put you to sleep faster.”

“Shh, Hope, I’m sleeping.” Penelope mumbles, one hand sneaking out to find Hope’s among the blankets. Penelope’s eyes are already closed, so Hope doesn’t hide her smile. “Goodnight, Park.” 

When Penelope wakes up in the morning, Hope is already gone. 

* * *

Penelope huffs as Hope takes her bishop. 

“You’re such a sore loser.” Hope muses as she watches Penelope glare at the board. “But that’s not very surprising.”

“Normally it’s not a problem because I never lose.” Penelope explains as she moves her rook three spaces and castles, which is what Hope expected her to do. 

“Well, someone has to keep your ego in check.”

“And you so gallantly decided to take up the position?” Penelope looks up at Hope and flutters her eyelashes. “You’re too kind.”

Hope slides her pawn up one without breaking eye contact. “You can’t just flirt your way out of losing every time, you know.” 

“Well, I can try.” Under the table they’re playing on, Penelope toes off one flat and strokes her foot up the back of Hope’s calf. 

Hope bares her teeth. “I have checkmate in four, by the way.” 

Penelope’s coy smile droops. “What? Already?” 

Hope still refuses to go to any of Salvatore’s parties, so they’ve compromised by playing chess in Penelope’s room. Hope says that counts as being social and Penelope says that’s the best she’s going to get, so she’ll take it. Across the table, Penelope keeps eyeing her, like she knows Hope is keeping a secret, even though she isn’t.

Or not really, anyway. Hope can’t think of a casual way to bring up that she’s genuinely considering asking Lizzie Saltzman out. 

Somehow, it just feels wrong to tell Penelope. There’s been something undercutting all of their conversations lately, some thread of tension that Hope can’t place. Something unspoken. 

Penelope’s been coping with Jandon (Hope suspects Lizzie came up with that ship name, which is the only reason she uses it) by flirting outrageously with everyone who looks her way- which admittedly is a lot of people- and that includes Hope. She likes to think she’s better at ignoring it than most, which is good, except for the fact that half the time it only makes Penelope flirt harder. That’s not quite it though; Penelope has always been flirty with her. 

No, Hope thinks it might have something to do with the fact that lately Hope’s been flirting  _ back _ \- matching Penelope’s touches with ones of her own, holding her gaze, smirking when Penelope’s eyes flick lower. She’s starting to figure out that maybe that’s why Penelope enjoy spending time with her: because Hope is the one person who will actually challenge her back, who can give as good as she gets, instead of either being enamored like her minions or furious like Josie. Penelope has finally found an  _ equal _ . 

Which is kind of a terrifying thought, if Hope thinks about it, which she doesn’t. 

That’s secretly kind of also part of the reason Hope’s decided to confess her feelings to Lizzie- it will end this confusing relationship with Penelope. Hope isn’t delusional; she knows she can’t date Lizzie and still hang out with Penelope. There’s a part of her- a larger part than Hope is willing to admit- that feels guilty about it. But hasn’t their entire tentative peace been because of their mutual pining over a Saltzman? Hope reasons that without that, Penelope won’t want to hang around, anyway. 

“Next time we’re playing poker.” Penelope mutters, scowling as she watches Hope take her queen. 

“Sure, I can beat you at that, too.” Hope smirks, anticipating the way Penelope’s eyes sharpen at a challenge. 

Not to mention, Penelope is the one who encouraged Hope to ask Lizzie out in the first place. Sure, she hasn’t done it lately, but still. Hope doesn’t know why she’s trying so hard to justify this in her mind; she’s in love with Lizzie and she’s going to tell her so. It has nothing to do with Penelope. 

And yet, Hope can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. That something’s changed.

“So are you going to tell me what you’re thinking so hard about, or am I going to have to guess?”

Hope realizes she’s been staring silently at the board for a good five minutes.

“I was just… thinking.” She says lamely, moving her bishop along the diagonal. 

“About Lizzie, I assume.” Hope’s surprise must show on her face, because Penelope elaborates: “You get a certain look on your face when you think about her.”

“What do you think would happen if she found out that we hang out?” 

Penelope laughs a little. “God, nothing good. She’d probably like, try to exorcise you. Claim I’ve possessed you or something.” 

Honestly, that does sound like something Lizzie would say. Hope makes a noise of agreement. 

“Why?” Penelope takes another of Hope’s pawns. “Did she see us together or something?”

“No.” Hope rolls a chess piece from palm to palm, trying to pin down why she feels so troubled over all of this. “I was just thinking about what would happen if she did.”

“I doubt she’ll figure it out. Lizzie doesn’t notice things that don’t impact her directly. But hey, if she ever gives you shit for talking to me, I give you full permission to disavow me.” Penelope shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s picked Lizzie Saltzman over me.” 

Hope huffs. “Don’t say it like that. I know you’re just trying to make me feel guilty.” 

Penelope gives her a brief, sly smile before she moves her piece. “Besides,” she says conversationally, leaning back and looking at the board in satisfaction. She’s three moves away from winning. “You hate me, so it wouldn’t be too much of a loss, right?”

Right. So why can’t she just agree with Penelope? Hope keeps her eyes on the board and tries to ignore the emotions welling up in her throat. 

“Checkmate.” She says instead, and then she knocks over Penelope’s king. 

* * *

Today’s the day.

Hope’s been thinking about it, and thinking about it, and thinking about it, and she’s made up her mind. She’s going to tell Lizzie how she feels. 

All this pining and angst and unnecessary internal suffering is fine for poorly written TV shows, but real life doesn’t work that way. And Hope isn’t sure she can handle much more of this uncertainty, of the blistering ache of love that rests in her chest. She needs to know, one way or the other. 

And now is the best time to do it, because there’s enough time that if Lizzie does say yes to a date, they can go out before she leaves for the winter holiday, but also that if she says no, Hope only has to avoid her for a few days before she can disappear to New Orleans for the holiday. She has to do this now. 

The whole way to the room, Hope rehearses in her head what she’s going to say when Lizzie answers the door, so she’s not at all prepared for the door to swing open and reveal a shirtless Sebatstian instead. 

“Hello.” He says in a smooth British accent, while Hope just stands there, frozen. “How can I be of assistance?” 

“I…”

Lizzie comes up behind him, looping her arms around his chest and pressing against him, her chin on his shoulder. “Hope! Have you met Sebastian?” Lizzie is wearing the shirt Sebastian is lacking, and there is no mistaking what Hope has just walked into the aftermath of. 

Hope isn’t one for dramatics- that’s really more Penelope’s style- but for a moment she could swear she feels her heart shattering. “Uh.. yeah, I have.” 

Lizzie pushes Sebastian to the side so she can lean forward and address Hope. “Listen, we were kind of in the middle of something,” behind her, Sebastian smirks, and Hope feels an overwhelming urge to punch him in his smug face, “whatever it is, can we talk later?” 

Hope blinks once, twice. “Yeah, of course.” She says faintly, already backing away from the doorway, from the whole scene. “Sorry to bother you guys.” 

“Bye!” Lizzie calls out, and as the door shuts, Hope hears Sebastian murmur something low, and Lizzie’s responding giggle. 

Hope’s received a lot of bad news in her eighteen years of life. And there’s always one point, a second where the words have been said, but they haven’t sunk in yet, a final breath before reality sets in. It kind of reminds her of being punched, another thing that’s happened to her too many times. An instant where the blow has made contact, but the pain has not yet been realized. Then, of course, everything catches up.

Anyway, that’s how it feels now. There’s still a moment where she can still breathe, where she feels nothing at all, the world around her simply white noise. 

Then reality hits. 

Hope goes to the only place she can think of. 

-

The door to Penelope’s room slams open so hard, the walls seem to shake. 

“Did you know?!” Hope demands.

Penelope, lounging on the bed, flips to the next page in her book. “‘Hi, Penelope.’ Oh, hi Hope, how are you? ‘I’m good, and you?’ I’m great, thank you for asking, are you-” 

“Shut up.  _ Occludo _ .” Hope waves a hand to magic the door closed and crosses the room in long strides to rip the book from Penelope’s hands. “Did you know about Lizzie and Sebastian?!”

Penelope is good, Hope will give her that. To the casual observer, Penelope doesn’t react at all, doesn’t so much as blink, but Hope can see the minuscule stiffening of Penelope’s shoulders, can read the way she glances to her left before she responds. 

“Sebastian who?”

“ _ Penelope.” _

Penelope tosses her hands in the air. “Okay, yes, fine, I heard Lizzie was interested in that ACDC reject.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?!” 

“Well, what was I supposed to say?! I tried to encourage you to make a move before he did!! They only just got together, apparently.” 

Hope drops onto the couch, the shame and the hurt and the rejection coursing through her. She puts her head in her hands. “Jesus Christ. I’m such an idiot.” 

“No arguments here.” 

Hope looks up to glare at Penelope, who raises her hands defensively. “Hey, I’m just saying.” 

“God. Why did I do that? Why did I wait so long?” 

“Because you deliberately sabotage yourself because you think you don’t deserve happiness?” Penelope suggests. 

“Fuck you, Park.” Hope snaps. She wants to be angry, she wants to fight, but all she feels is defeated. 

“Come on.” Penelope sits up, her eyes watching Hope carefully. “You spend months practically ignoring her. Did you really think she would wait for you?” 

“Like Josie waited for you?” Hope shoots back, feeling a horrible sliver of satisfaction at Penelope’s flinch. “God. I can’t believe.. I really thought I had a chance.” She goes back to staring at her hands. 

Penelope scoots down her bed, edging closer to Hope like she’s a wild animal. “You did have a chance. Tall, dark, and emo literally appeared out of nowhere, that’s all. And think of it this way,” she moves a little closer, “It’s not the end of the world. I mean, Lizzie is terrible. He’ll probably realize that and get the hell out of there soon enough.” 

“You’re such a bitch.” Hope mutters, but there’s no bite behind it. So many terrible things have happened in her life, missing her chance with Lizzie doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of it all and yet.. it still hurts. It hurts.

“How did you find out?” 

“I knocked on her door and he opened it, shirtless.”

Penelope winces. “Oof. Why were you there?” 

Hope opens her mouth, then closes it. “... no reason.” 

Why is it that nothing ever gets past Penelope? “Oh my god.” Penelope straightens up like a dog catching the scent of its prey. “Did you go to her room to confess your love?!” 

Hope doesn’t bother responding, which is confirmation in and of itself. 

“Mikaelson, I am so proud of you!” Penelope claps her hands together. “Look at you, ready to acknowledge your feelings. This progress, this emotional growth!”

“And look where it got me.” Hope scuffs at the floor with her shoe, still looking down. 

“Hey, at least you tried.”

When Hope doesn’t say anything else, Penelope sighs. “Alright. Should we hug? Would that make you feel better?” She gets off the bed, arms open wide.

“Absolutely not.” Hope eyes her with distaste, backing up as Penelope approaches. 

“It’s too late. I’m ready to hug. It’s the next step in our relationship. Hope! Hope!!” Penelope laughs as Hope dodges her outstretched arms. “Hope, it’s time to hug!” She backs her up to the far end of the couch.

“Ugh, get away from me.” Hope says, without making any actual effort to get away; Penelope just wraps her arms around her. For some reason, it doesn’t occur to Hope to use her power to get out of it. 

“Shh, it’s happening. Just let it happen.” Penelope tucks her head over Hope’s shoulder and presses her close. “There. Not so bad, huh?” 

“I hate you.” Hope mumbles against her shoulder. 

But she hugs Penelope back anyway. 

* * *

“Are you reading a buzzfeed list of ‘How to Help Your Friend Through a Breakup’??” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Penelope locks her phone before Hope can see the full article. “We’re not friends.” But she kind of slants her voice when she says it, as if that’s not really true. 

Hope can’t decide which part she wants to argue with first. “Penelope, I’m  _ fine _ . You don’t need to make these weird efforts to console me, or whatever.” It’s been three days and Hope has accepted it. Really. 

“What part of this seems like I’m trying to console you?” Penelope wrenches open a random cabinet and throws a sack of flour at Hope. “I’m just trying to get someone to make food for me. I need nourishment to make it through the last day of finals.” 

“Well, I don’t know why you picked  _ me _ . I can barely boil water. Plus, don’t you have like a thousand minions you could ask?”

Penelope pulls open each kitchen drawer to inspect its contents, tossing various ingredients and tools onto the center island, while Hope follows behind, shutting each one after Penelope leaves it in disarray. “But baby, you’re way more fun.” 

Hope slams a drawer shut with more force than is strictly necessary and turns to start cooking. “You know what might be fun? Having one whole conversation where I don’t want to slap you.” 

“Psh, where’s the fun in that?” Penelope waves a hand dismissively, hoping up to sit on the counter. “Plus, you’re hot when you’re angry.” 

Hope gapes at her for a moment, not noticing she’s pouring far too much baking soda into the bowl. They both turn towards the door at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“ _ Icaeus _ ,” Hope hisses. Penelope topples off the counter with a clatter and a cloud of flour. 

“Hope?” Josie enters the kitchen frowning. “What are you doing? What was that noise?” 

“Nothing, just…” Hope grabs a spoon and stirs the bowl aggressively. “Cooking!”

“Cooking…?” Josie repeats, her brows knitting together. “You cook now?” 

“I thought I’d try something new.” Hope picks up the nearest container and dumps it into the bowl, cringing when she sees it’s salt. “Almost a new year, new me, all of that.” 

“Oh..” Josie’s expression clears. “You found out about Lizzie and Sebastian, didn’t you? I told Lizzie she should just tell you, but…”

“Oh my god.” Hope groans. “Did everyone know but me?” 

“Not  _ everyone _ .” Josie hedges. “I’m sure like, Penelope and her minions didn’t care enough to notice.” 

There’s a loud thump from the floor that Hope covers up by slamming the spoon against the side of the bowl while she adds water to the mix. “Uh, well, it’s not that. Seriously, I don’t care. I mean, I’m happy for Lizzie, and that’s all. Just happy for her and nothing else. The baking is unrelated.” 

Josie does not seem convinced. “It’s okay to admit you had feelings for Lizzie.” 

“Nope, nope, nope.” Hope switches the blender on to drown out Josie’s next sentence. “We aren’t having this conversation.” 

Josie bites her lip, conflicted. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You deserve to be happy, Hope.”

“That’s exactly what-” Hope catches herself before she mentions Penelope to the one person who can’t know. “Um, anyway. I’m fine, really. Thanks for checking on me, Josie. But I’m alright.” 

Josie gives her one last confused look before conceding and leaving the kitchen. 

“Well, that was sweet.” Penelope drawls, and Hope spins around to find Penelope perched on the counter again, sampling Hope’s batter. 

“Don’t eat that.” Hope knocks her hand away from the bowl. “And relax, I’m not going to steal your girl.”

“You mean Landon’s girl.” Penelope grimaces at the taste and at her own words. “This tastes like shit.” 

Hope snatches the bowl away. “Oh, I’m  _ so _ sorry I didn’t have time to learn how to make cookies during my childhood, what with all the running for my life and hiding I was doing.” 

“If you think you’re going to get me to be nice to you by reminding me of your tragic past, it won’t work. I am a master of emotional manipulation. Your pathetic attempts are nothing to me.” Penelope wrestles the bowl out of Hope’s hands and discards it in the sink. “Let’s start over.” 

She begins laying out the necessary supplies while Hope observes from over her shoulder. 

“If you knew how to do this, then why did you ask me?”   
“Why would I do something for myself when I can get someone else to do it for me?” Penelope shrugs, ushering Hope to the sink to measure out the water they need. “But clearly I overestimated your skills.”

“I told you that!” 

“Oh, hush.” Ingredients successfully prepared, Penelope steps away and hops back up on the side counter. “Now, we’re going to do wet ingredients in one bowl and dry in another.” 

Hope dutifully follows Penelope’s drawled instructions. 

There’s something comforting about it, the simplicity of the actions. It’s so ordinary, making Christmas cookies; ordinary is not something Hope is used to feeling. It’s… comforting. 

When the sugar cookies go in the oven, they start on a batch of chocolate chip ones. 

“Can you smell fear and shit?” Penelope throws another chocolate chip at Hope. “Because the wolves on  _ Teen Wolf _ can like, smell emotions.” 

Hope catches the chocolate chip in one hand and resists the urge to bare her teeth and growl at Penelope. “You watch Teen Wolf?” 

“I’ve been researching.” Penelope says, as if that makes sense. 

“Researching?”

“Well, it’s not like  _ you _ ’ll tell me anything so!” Penelope shrugs, then tosses a chocolate chip into her own mouth. “I have to find out about werewolves in other ways.”

“By watching shitty CW shows?” Hope looks at her skeptically. “You go to a school with werewolves! Why don’t you just ask one of them?”

Penelope scoffs like  _ Hope _ is the one who’s being ridiculous. “Who exactly am I going to ask? Rafael?” She drops the chocolate chip bag on the counter and Hope snags it before Penelope can throw any more. “Please, I have no desire to sit there and listen to him wax on about your hair or whatever for a half hour.” 

Sometimes Hope is astounded by how dramatic Penelope is for no reason. “What are you even talking about? He wouldn’t do that.” 

Penelope sighs, leaning back dramatically against the cabinets. “Here we go! You know, you’re always talking about how this whole school is obsessed with me- as they rightfully should be-” she tosses her hair while Hope rolls her eyes, “but everyone who isn’t obsessed with  _ me _ is obsessed with  _ you _ .” 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” 

Penelope purses her lips as if she knew this is what Hope would say. “Come on, Hope, you can’t really be blind to your effect on people. You’re hot, you’re powerful, you’re mysterious.” She ticks each option off her fingers. “People are into that.”

Hope turns to hunt for a cookie scoop so she has something to do other than try to decipher Penelope’s words. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about and frankly, I don’t care.”

Penelope lowers her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “There’s a betting pool on who you’ll end up with, you know.” She has that cat-with-a-canary smile that Hope  _ hates _ . She especially hates the way it makes her heart race. 

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m really not.” Penelope hops down from the counter so she can stalk closer to Hope, the predator convening on its prey. “Let me tell you, the Hosie and Handon fans lost a good bit of money when Josie and Landon got together-“ Penelope’s gotten better at hiding her reaction to those words: she barely flinches at all, “-but the Hizzie fans were especially crushed.” 

“....Hizzie?”

“Like Bragelina? Hope and Lizzie combined.” 

Hope would do anything to wipe that taunting look off Penelope’s face, and anyway, she’s 90% sure the other girl is messing with her, so she just turns to Penelope, raises an eyebrow, and asks: “What about  _ us _ ?”

This makes Penelope pause. “What  _ about _ us?”

“Well, it’s like you said,” Hope stares down studiously into the bowl, because she knows if she looks at Penelope anymore, she’ll start laughing. “If they’re not talking about you, they’re talking about me. And I know no one knows we even talk to each other, but surely  _ some _ people have to be betting on the two most well known girls in school getting together.”

Sometimes Hope sort of understands it, why Penelope is always teasing her. It’s  _ way  _ too much fun to watch Penelope be caught off guard or flustered. 

“I…” Penelope’s miniscule hesitation tells Hope she’s lying. “I hadn’t checked.” 

“Right. You, Penelope Park, didn’t immediately check to see if anyone put money on us?”

Penelope recovers quickly. “Fine. I did check, but I didn’t want to break your heart by telling you-” she clasps her hand in front of her chest in mock despair- “That the odds are heavily against us. It’s all very ‘star-crossed lovers’.” 

“Well,” Hope uses one foot to shove the oven open so she can push the tray in. She stands up and brushes her hands off on a towel. “Good thing I’m not afraid to take risks.” Penelope gapes at her a little. “Can you set the timer?”

Penelope picks up her phone to set the timer, shaking her head. “I’ve taught you too well, Kessler.” 

“Kessler?”

“From ‘An American Werewolf in London?’” When Hope doesn’t show any signs of recognition, Penelope sighs. “My genius is so under-appreciated.” 

“Better than the Twilight references, I suppose.” The kitchen is beginning to fill with the warm scent of baking sugar and it all feels very homey. Hope hops up on the counter across from Penelope. “Are you going home for Christmas?” 

Penelope’s lips flatten to a thin line and she looks away. “No.” 

“Why not?”

“Seriously?  _ You _ are going to ask me why I don’t want to celebrate Christmas? You hate Christmas.” 

Hope tries to mask her surprise. “How do you know that?” 

“You’re Josie’s best friend. I was bound to hear about you some of the time. Although trust me, I tried to forget it immediately.” 

“I’m sure.” Hope refuses to let the conversation get off track. “So why aren’t you going home?”

Penelope shrugs. “I’ll probably travel instead. Go see some friends in Europe or something. I’ve always wanted to go to Belgium.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Ughhhhh.” Penelope groans, laying back along the counter, which cannot possibly be sanitary. “I know you’re used to getting your information by punching things, but try to use your critical thinking skills, Hope. Why do you not like the holidays?” 

Hope doesn’t need to think about it. “Because it’s a time for family and it reminds me of all the family I’ve lost.” 

Penelope mumbles something that sounds like “Oh, the angst of it all…”. She sits back up. “Then there you go. That’s my reason too.”

Hope has many questions, even though she can see Penelope does not want to discuss this. Unfortunately, the timer goes off before she can ask them.

“And… time’s up!” Penelope jumps off the counter to open the oven in her haste to avoid the conversation. “Plus, we need to make frosting to decorate all these.” She gingerly picks up a still hot cookie and holds it up to Hope. 

Knowing this is another challenge, Hope leans forward and bites the cookie directly from Penelope’s fingers without breaking eye contact. She chews and swallows, Penelope still watching her intently, her lips parted. “ _ Make _ frosting? Why can’t we use the store bought kind?” 

The moment breaks as Penelope heaves a sigh of disappointment. “Oh, Hope. You have so much to learn.” 

* * *

“Wake up!”

Hope had intended to sleep in on the first day of winter break, but someone seems to have other ideas. The knocking on Hope’s door increases in volume and intensity. She assumes it’s Penelope because no one else could possibly be this annoying. 

“No!” Hope yells towards the door. “Go away!” She pulls a pillow over her head and burrows deeper under the covers. 

The knocking stops. 

Hope frowns, her eyebrows scrunching against the sheets. Penelope never just gives up like that. She sits up in her bed, looking around suspiciously. “Park?” 

She blinks and suddenly she’s hovering over Penelope’s bed. Before Hope can even register where she is, gravity kicks in and she drops unceremoniously onto the mattress. 

“I hate you.” Hope mutters from the tangle of blankets. 

“Sure you do.” Penelope says from the couch, grinning at the success of her spell. 

“Why can’t you let me rest? Just one day, that’s all I ask.”

“You’re leaving for the break tomorrow! You’ll have a whole month without me.” 

“A Christmas miracle.” Hope grumbles, extracting herself from the bed. “Can I at least have five minutes to like, brush my teeth?”

Penelope thinks it over. “Fine. Then meet me outside by the gates, okay?”

There is, as always, that brief second where Hope’s instincts threaten to take over, to reject the invitation, to remain with what’s familiar- being alone. Then she swallows and pushes past it. “What are we even doing?”

Penelope gives her what Hope can unfortunately only describe as a  _ wolfish _ grin. “You’ll see.”

-

Hope props one hand on her hip and sighs. 

“Okay, I know you can normally get away with being morally grey because of your charm and conventional good looks-”

“Are you saying you think I’m hot?”

“-and devil-may-care attitude and all that, but I’m going to have to draw the line here. I cannot support you stealing a car.” 

Penelope pushes her sunglasses with the top of her travel coffee cup so she can give Hope a look. “I didn’t steal this car. It’s mine.” 

That is, somehow, less believable than Penelope stealing a car. 

Penelope hands the keys to Hope for her to examine. 

“I didn’t even know you knew how to drive!” 

“Well, it’s not my fault you have such low expectations for me.”

“Yes, it is!” 

Penelope nods to concede the point and her sunglasses fall back down. “That’s fair. Now can we go or do you want to check my license first?” 

Hope peers in the window of the vehicle. “Are you just luring me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me?” 

Penelope scoffs. “If I was going to kill you, I’d have done it already.”

“... Fine.” Hope lets out a heavy sigh and reaches for the car door handle. 

“Ah, ah!” Penelope whisks the keys out of Hope’s hands before she can react. “I’m driving!” 

“What? Why do you get to drive?” 

Penelope is already sliding into the front seat like she was made for it, chuckling to herself. “I knew you’d want to drive. God, Hope, you’re such a top.” 

And she knows, she knows that Penelope only says stuff like that to fluster her, that that low, teasing tone is just what Penelope uses to get free drinks at the bar, and yet… And yet Hope can’t help but stammer: “What? How does that- Nevermind.” and stomp around to the passenger seat with a huff, climbing into the car and staring through the windshield to ignore Penelope’s smirk. “Let’s go.” 

-

“Should I even bother asking where we’re going?” 

“The beach.”

“The beach?”

“The beach.” 

“It’s December. There’s literally snow on the ground.” 

“Your powers of deduction never fail to amaze me.” Penelope glances down at the map on her phone, then at Hope, then back at the road. “This is the best time to go, there will be fewer people.”

Penelope wouldn’t care if there were a lot of people, but Hope does. “Why would anyone want to go to a beach in  _ Virginia _ ?” 

“This is the best I could do without leaving the state!” Penelope turns the wheel so quickly, Hope can hear everything in the back seat tip over. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you somewhere nicer for the honeymoon. Though I can’t imagine we’ll be leaving the room much…” 

Hope snorts, the noise almost lost in the wind rushing past them; Penelope drives exactly like Hope expected her to, which is to say, she drives with a recklessness usually reserved for stunt car drivers and action movies. “Honeymoon? When exactly did you propose?” 

“When did  _ I  _ propose?!” Penelope slows the car down to 75mph to roll through a stop sign. “Hope, darling, I think we both know  _ you _ ’d propose to  _ me _ .” 

“And what makes you think I’d marry you at all?” Hope is going to ignore the implication that she’s the ‘man’ in this relationship. “You’re not exactly my type, Park.” 

Penelope takes her eyes off the road to pin Hope with a sultry look. “Oh baby, I’m everyone’s type.” 

It’s kind of ridiculous- they’re rushing down the highway at a way too fast speed, the wind whipping past them in the middle of December, driving to who knows where- and yet Penelope Park looks like a goddamn model. Her hair is tousled, one perfect curl brushing against her cheek, her eyes sparkling with mirth and her lips twisted in her signature smug smirk. She looks like sin and sunlight and danger. She looks like perfection. She looks like  _ everything _ .

Hope forces herself to ignore the way her heart is pounding and maintains eye contact until Penelope has to look away, just in time to slam the breaks and avoid running a red light. The moment passes.

Hope had always wanted to ask, when Josie showed up at Hope’s room, raging and furious over Penelope’s latest antics, what she’d seen in Penelope; as in, why had Josie even dated the witch in the first place? 

But sitting here in the passenger seat of Penelope’s car, it’s suddenly so  _ clear _ . 

Having Penelope’s attention is intoxicating. It’s like sunlight after years of darkness, like Penelope is the moon and you’re the tide, like the charge of electricity and pleasure at your fingertips when you cast your first spell. Maybe Hope can understand the throngs of girls who clamour for a hello from Penelope, for the chance to sit near her at lunch, for the sheer thrill of her gaze falling upon them. 

It’s not like Hope suddenly idolizes her, or anything, but she understands it. There’s something about Penelope’s gaze- as if there’s no one in the world she would rather be listening to, as if she had paused everything else just to look at you, even through the many others who want her attention. It’s all very Gatsby-esque.

They drive for at least an hour, bickering over the radio station and having their usual conversation that’s half insults and half flirting. Eventually the wheels of the car screech in protest as Penelope turns into the parking lot of a small diner. 

“This isn’t the beach.” 

“We’re eating first.” Penelope says, the engine giving a sigh of relief as she pulls out the keys. She drops her sunglasses on the center console and pushes her door open.

Hope starts to follow but then hesitates uneasily, one foot still in the car. “Listen… Is this another attempt at helping the heartbroken or something? Because I-” 

“Keep making comments like that and I’m actually going to be offended.” Penelope is waiting at the base of the steps and there’s something off in her tone. “Is the reason you question my every move because you don’t trust me or because you don’t believe you deserve people being nice to you?”

Hope winces a little. Maybe she could’ve phrased her question better. “I just don’t want you to hang out with me because you feel obligated to, or something.” 

Penelope’s frustrated glare softens. “Seriously?” She raises her voice to address the empty parking lot. “Hope Mikaelson, I am hanging out with you only because I want to!” 

“Okay, okay, shh!” Hope hurries them into the restaurant so that Penelope will stop yelling, looking down at their feet so Penelope can’t see her smile. 

“Now, can I at least get some pancakes before you get all angsty again?” Penelope asks as they trapeze their way to a booth. 

Hope goes right to indignant. “You’re the one who made it angsty! This time was definitely your fault!” 

They’re still squabbling, including Penelope enchanting the little stacks of jelly and sugar packets to fly at Hope’s face, when Hope realizes someone is approaching them and quickly makes all the levitating objects hit the table. 

A waitress who can’t be more than a few years older than them sidles up to the table with two glasses of water and stack of menus. 

“Welcome to The Waverly Diner! I’ll get you both some coffee, and then I’ll be right back in a few minutes to take your order.” 

“Thank you.” Hope says quickly, because Penelope is making no effort to look like they weren’t doing something suspicious. 

The woman hesitates, her gaze bouncing between Penelope and Hope, and then she lowers her voice. “And I hope this is okay to say but… you two make such a lovely couple.” 

Hope blanches. “Oh, uh, no, we’re not-”

Penelope effectively cuts Hope off by reaching across the tabletop to grasp her hand. “Thank you so much.” She says to the woman, her voice as sweet as syrup. “It’s our anniversary.” 

The woman beams at them before scuttling off to another table. Hope wrenches her hand out of Penelope’s. 

“What was that?!” She hisses.

“What was what?” Penelope picks up a menu and begins flipping through it casually. 

“I…” How is it possible that Penelope continues to confound her? “You’re literally insane.” 

“That’s disrespectful to those who are actually clinically insane.” Penelope says offhand as she scans the menu like everything is normal. 

“Penelope!” Hope puts her hand on the menu and tugs it down so she Penelope has to look at her. “WHY did you just tell that woman that we were dating when we aren’t?” 

“Is it such a hardship for someone to think you’re dating me?” Penelope is too good at the pretend-insulted tone.

“No, I- That’s not-” Hope narrows her eyes and lets go of the menu, watching the smirk slide across Penelope’s face. “God, you’re so annoying.” 

Penelope shrugs. “She was obviously a young gay woman happy to see some fellow wlw in an area where she doesn’t normally get to see that. I don’t see why we would break her heart by dashing her hopes.”

Hope hates when Penelope makes her logic sound reasonable. 

“And besides,” Penelope lowers her menu to flutter her eyelashes at Hope, “We make  _ such _ a lovely couple.” 

The waitress comes back with their coffee before Hope can argue. 

Penelope gets her pancakes, Hope gets an omelette with four side orders of bacon (“Could you be any more obvious?” “Werewolves are carnivores! What else am I supposed to do?!”), and they play five rounds of rock paper scissors to decide who pays- Penelope loses. Then they scurry out of the diner, Penelope grabbing Hope’s hand and waving to the waitress with their interlocked hands. The waitress is thrilled, Hope is not. From there, they drive only a little while before they reach the cliffside. 

Hope runs hot- a side effect of her werewolf genes- but Penelope has no such luxury, grumbling as she’s forced to cover her runway-ready outfit with a thick coat before they trudge their way to the shore. The day is sunny, though cold, and the remnants of a recent snow shower weigh down the reeds around the wooden pathway to the beach. The waves crashing against the coastline are a steady roar. 

“I knew it.” Hope states when they reach the wide swath of sand, Penelope propping her hands on her hips as she looks out at the expanse. 

“Knew what?” 

“You brought me here to kill me.” 

Penelope snorts as they make their way down towards the water. “Yeah, I needed an idyllic beach view for that. Here.” She pulls a waterproof blanket from her deceptively small purse and spreads it out on the sand, a dune at their backs. 

Hope eyes it as Penelope sits down and pats the spot next to her. “This is all suspiciously normal. Are you infected with like, evil slugs or something?” 

“Can’t I just do something nice every one in awhile?”

“You  _ can _ .” Hope shrugs, sensing it’s pointless to argue, and settles on the blanket, leaning back against the sand. “But you don’t.” 

“Hmpf.” Penelope pulls her coat tighter as a breeze ruffles her hair. “Whatever.” 

Hope turns away from whatever midlife crisis Penelope is going through and finally takes in the view. The whole ocean stretched out before them, wide and clear and endless, a sea of blue and white. It looks endless and wide and encompassing, an uncontained beast, a force so powerful it makes them all insignificant. To someone like Hope, constantly bowed beneath the weight of her legacy, feeling inconsequential is a breath of fresh air, a moment of peace among the chaos. 

“It’s beautiful.” Hope breathes out, not bothering to keep the awe out of her voice. 

“You’re supposed to say that while looking at me.” Penelope drawls. When Hope ignores her, she tosses something into her lap. “Here.” 

Hope drags her gaze away from the landscape to examine the items: a pad of paper and a box of pastels. She runs her fingers over the spine of the notebook and look at Penelope. “What’s this for?” 

Penelope shrugs as she rifles through her purse, avoiding eye contact. “You said you like art, right? I figured you’d want to, like, ‘capture the beauty of the scene’ or whatever.” She lays perpendicular to Hope along the blanket, propping her feet on Hope’s thighs without asking, and pulls out a book.

Hope waits for the words to make sense, but clarity never comes. “Seriously, what is happening right now.” 

Penelope opens the book in front of her face and blocks Hope’s bewildered look. “Shh, Hope, I’m reading.” 

Resigned to her fate, Hope turns back to the view, her hands already reaching for the pastels, flipping instinctively to a clean page before she begins to draw. 

The crash of the waves and familiar thump of Penelope’s heartbeat become the calming background noise as Hope sketches. At first she colors a sketch of the ocean in front of her, but then she moves on, letting herself draw freely. The drawings spiral out across the pages as Hope puts her memories onto the paper: Josie and MG losing at twister, Alaric looking off into the forest during a hunt, three girls singing along to Mulan, Landon asleep in the library just before Kaleb jumps out and scares him. 

And Hope still refuses to draw Penelope (it’s the principle of it, she says every time Penelope complains) but the witch is infused into so much of the last six months of Hope’s life that she shows up in the sketchings anyway. She’s there in the shot Hope doodles of a plant basking in the sunlight on Penelope’s windowsill, in her etching of a hand as it picks up a chess piece, in a carefully colored picture of a stack of sugar cookies balanced precariously, waiting to be decorated. 

The hazy winter sun is high in the sky by the time Hope is pulled from her introspective work by Penelope’s movement. Penelope sets her book down and stretches, rolling her head from side to side as she cracks her neck. “I don’t suppose I’ll be allowed to see what you drew?”

Hope closes the notebook and holds it against her chest protectively. “You suppose correctly.” 

Penelope shrugs. “I figured. Wanna go for a walk or something?”

“A walk to where?”

“I dunno. It’s a beach walk. That’s what normal people do at the beach.” 

Hope pulls off her shoes and socks before she stands, brushing the sand from her jeans. “And you’d know what normal people do?” 

Penelope finishes cuffing the pants and straightens up, rolling her eyes. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to just agree with me sometimes, instead of arguing with everything I say.” 

“Mmh, I don’t know.” Hope says as they start to walk, their steps leaving footprints in the wet sand. “It might. Why take the risk?”

Penelope bumps Hope with her shoulder. “Asshole.” 

Hope shoulders Penelope back, but she miscalculates her strength and Penelope takes a stumbling step too close to the ocean, a wave knocking against her ankles and soaking her pants from the knees down. 

Penelope looks down in shock while Hope backs away, holding up her hands up to convey innocence and trying not to laugh. “Okay wait. Penelope wait, I didn’t mean to do that, I swear. Penelope, wait! Wait, no!” Hope laughs as she starts running away from the murderous look in Penelope’s eyes. 

“Mikaelson! This is my favorite pair of pants and you know it!” Penelope chases after a breathless-with-laugher-Hope, who runs backwards just to show off. Hope lets Penelope catch up with her only once she starts to choke from laughing and running at the same time. Penelope tackles her from behind, landing both of them in the sand, Hope wrestling out of Penelope’s grip. 

“Holy shit.” Penelope pants, completely out of breath while she stares up the clouds. “This is why I don’t go out chasing monsters with you people. The zombies involved WAY less running.” 

“It’s not,” Hope inhales, “That bad.” Exhales. “You’re just.” Inhales. “A little.” Exhales. “Bitch.” 

Penelope throws one hand out blindly to snack Hope on the shoulder, Hope rolling just out of reach, chuckling to herself. 

When they finally extract themselves from the sand, Penelope leads them further down the beach until they reach a somehow-still-open-in-December ice cream stand. Hope pays, since Penelope paid for breakfast, and they take their cones and head back the way they came. As they walk, the conversation drifts from topic to topic. 

“You know, Josie used to have a crush on me.”

She doesn’t know what she expects Penelope to reply, but it’s certainly not: “Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?”

Hope starts. “That’s exactly what Josie said.”

“Girl’s got good taste in women.” Penelope gestures up and down her own body with her free hand. “Obviously.” 

“Are you complimenting me?” 

“Baby, I’m  _ always _ complimenting you. It’s not my fault you never notice.” 

Were Hope a less stubborn woman, she’s certain her knees would buckle from the absolutely filthy look Penelope sends her way. As it is, she wrenches her gaze away to stare pointedly in another direction and pretends she’s not blushing while Penelope smirks. 

As they retrace their sandy footsteps, the two young women’s shoulders brush. The contact makes Hope unaccountably jittery, like she’s been shocked with electricity each time. 

“Tell me something, Mikaelson.”

“Every time I tell you something, you call me angsty or depressing or whatever.”

Penelope nods thoughtfully. “That’s true. How about this: Tell me the angstiest thought you have. The saddest feeling you’ve got.” 

Hope waits, but Penelope doesn’t take it back. She’s serious. “Seriously?”

Penelope nods. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s hear it.” 

She should just refuse, but the chance to let it out, to finally say the truth is too much to pass up. Hope inhales deeply, listening to the waves churn against the sand. “Sometimes it hurts so much, it feels like I can’t breathe.” 

“What does?”

“I don’t know, living? The weight of who I am, of what I am? It’s hard to bear the responsibility I have.” 

“You know,” Penelope kicks at the sand with her toes as they walk, “You don’t have to be the hero. I mean, no one would blame you if you decided to, like, go to college, get a job, live a regular life.” 

Hope is already shaking her head. “I can’t do that. Not after my parents, after everything.”

“Selfless..” Penelope mumbles, almost to herself. 

“I was kidding myself with Lizzie, anyway.” Hope continues. “People like me, Mikaelsons, we’re not meant for the fall in love, settle down kind of life. I should’ve known that.” 

Penelope looks conflicted, but Hope continues before she can say anything: “Your turn. Tell me something, Park.” She tries to say it in Penelope’s drawl.

Penelope laughs lightly, apparently willing to accept the subject change. “Alright… um… I’m not quite as heartless as I’d like everyone to believe.” 

Hope almost laughs. “Um, I hate to break it to you but yeah, I know.” 

Penelope looks affronted. “What?! No you don’t!” 

Hope bites back a smile. “Please. You’re a big softy. I figured that out after like ten minutes of hanging out with you.” 

“A SOFTY?! You take that back!” Penelope really does look like Hope’s offended her. “I am not!!” 

“Nope.” Hope finishes the last bite of her ice cream cone, popping the end piece into her mouth. “Penelope ‘Softy’ Park, they’ll call you.” 

Penelope drops her head back to stare at the sky, lamenting her fate to the heavens. “Woe is truly me. My reputation is in shambles.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Consider it a favor.”

Penelope stops walking, turning so she’s facing Hope. “Oh? How will I ever repay you?”

Hope opens her mouth to speak, but her breath catches instead. The sun is just beginning to set, its brilliant rays appearing like a crown behind Penelope’s silhouette. Penelope is standing very close and Hope is acutely aware of the distance between them, of how easy it would be to close it. The sudden wave of desire she feels is almost overwhelming. 

“Penelope, I…” She can’t find the words. 

Penelope waits, her gaze flickering between Hope’s eyes and lips. 

The tension builds and builds. Eventually Hope shakes her head. “I don’t know.” 

Penelope smiles a little sadly, like that’s what she was expecting. “We should probably head back.”

And that’s true, but Hope is loathe to leave, to pop this serene little bubble that’s encased today. She doesn’t want to go; she wants to stay with this soft, unguarded Penelope, in this place that demands nothing of her. 

But of course, she can’t.

“Yeah, we should.” 

And they will, soon enough, but for a moment more, they both turn back to the water, their hands close enough to brush. They watch the sun sink in the sky, slow and inevitable.

Just Penelope and Hope, out there on the beach, alone together. 

-

Hope drives them back to campus. 

They leave after the sun sets, the darkness descending as Hope turns the car onto the freeway. It’s quiet, the low hum of the radio the only noise, but it’s a comfortable silence, the content silence at the end of a good day. Hope has the strangest urge to just keep driving, pass Salvatore and real life and just drive on forever. 

She doesn’t. Instead she plays the day over and over again in her head as she drives, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Without taking her eyes off the road, Hope asks: “Why did we come here today? Really.”

“What do you mean?” Penelope’s voice is slow and honey-like; she’s falling asleep.

“I mean… This,” Hope waves one hand to indicate the whole day, “doesn’t seem like your usual behavior. Normally you’re all antics and manic pixie dream girl adventures.” 

“Hmm… to call any girl a manic pixie dream girl is an insult to the individuality of women. Only men write those one dimensional characters.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.” 

“Well, if you must know,” Penelope lolls her head to the side to watch Hope’s profile, the passing streetlights flashing light over her skin. “Your whole life seems like one extraordinary thing after another. I thought you might appreciate something more… normal. Or quieter, at least.”

Hope’s really never met anyone who has so thoroughly understood her. The sensation is staggering, something unfamiliar and warm blooming under her skin. “But… why would you do that for me?” 

Penelope stays silent for so long that Hope thinks she’s not going to answer at all. Finally she licks her lips, weighing her words carefully. “You deserve to be happy, Hope.” 

It doesn’t answer Hope’s question, but there’s something about Penelope’s tone that stops her from pressing further. Instead, she continues to drive, her gaze drifting back repeatedly to the woman in the passenger seat. 

It takes Hope a few miles more before she realizes the strange tangle of heat in her chest is  _ affection _ . 

The panic hits immediately. 

No.

_ No _ . Hope tells herself, pressing down subconsciously on the gas pedal in fear, the car engine revving in response.  _ No _ . 

She can’t care about Penelope. Not now, not ever, not knowing what a curse she is to those who are close to her. She can’t. 

_ It’s okay _ . Hope flexes her hands on the steering wheel and tries to quell her inner panic.  _ There’s still time to fix this. _ She can just… distance herself. She can put some space between herself and Penelope and then she won’t be attached. It’s just because she usually spends so much time alone; being around Penelope so much has made her feel like they have a connection. 

_ But we don’t _ .  _ We don’t _ . 

Hope’s mind whirls as she thinks it over, thinks of the subtle ways she’ll have to create space between them. Penelope will notice if she’s too obvious, but this isn’t Hope’s first time hiding her real emotions. She’ll say goodbye to Penelope tomorrow, they won’t see each other for a month, and when they get back, Hope will become distant again. 

It’s not like Penelope will really care, anyway. She’ll probably be grateful for it. 

_ Yes _ , Hope says to herself as she pulls into the Salvatore driveway.  _ It will be fine _ . 

She can do this. 

* * *

She can’t do this. 

Hope raises her hand to knock, then drops it back down without touching the door. 

Her flight to New Orleans leaves in a few hours. The Salvatore Winter break is nearly a month long this year, and though Hope is ready for the break from classes and looking forward to seeing her family, there’s always something bittersweet about leaving. 

She’s said her goodbyes to Josie, Lizzie, Alaric, Rafael, and Landon. That only leaves one person. But for some reason, she can’t do it; she can’t say goodbye to Penelope. Especially when Penelope doesn’t know it’s a permanent goodbye.

Hope raises her fist again. Just before her knuckles make contact, the door swings open.

“Were you going to stand out here hesitating forever?”

Penelope has one hand on her hip and even though she’s just dressed in an old tee shirt and black ripped jeans, Hope feels her mouth go a little dry. 

“Hey.” 

Penelope gives her a weird look. “Hey. What’re you doing here? Don’t you have a flight?”

Hope tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I just came to..”

Penelope looks at her expectantly. 

She can feel the words crowding her mouth, but she can’t say it. “I…” 

_ I’m going to miss you. _

Maybe Penelope can see it in her eyes, because she steps backward as if she can physically avoid the emotion. “Spit it out, Mikaelson. Some of us have places to be.” 

Hope frowns at the apathy in her voice. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing’s wrong with me. But if you came to exchange heartfelt goodbyes, I’m afraid I’m all out.” 

The coldness of Penelope’s tone stings; the Penelope of yesterday seems to have disappeared. 

The words come out before she can stop them. “Do you have to be such a bitch all the time? Would it kill you to have some actual empathy for once?” Hope isn’t sure why she’s so hurt, only that she is, and her instinct is to go on the offensive.

“Ooh, good one.” Penelope inspects her nails, looking bored. “If you’re here with more angst, I’m not interested. Thanks for stopping by, you can go now.” 

Logically, she realizes Penelope is goading her into this, that Penelope would rather push her away than be vulnerable, but now Hope is itching for a fight. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“How can I forget when you’re constantly reminding me?” Penelope asks, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. 

“Stop it.” Hope steps into the room and shuts the door. “Stop trying to fight me.” She doesn’t know why she says it. She was planning to do the same thing Penelope is currently doing- distance themselves from each other- but now that it’s happening, Hope’s changed her mind. She doesn’t want  _ this _ .

“I’m not.” Penelope turns away from her, setting her shoulders as if preparing herself for war. When she turns back around, her eyes are cold and emotionless. “If I wanted to fight you, I’d say something like ‘God, Mikaelson, are you really going to miss me? Are you really so lonely that you would latch onto the first person who shows you even a shred of kindness?’” 

Hope flinches backwards. “Stop it, Penelope.” 

But Penelope is on a roll. “If I wanted to fight you, I’d say you’re here because you don’t know where else to go. Because you don’t know what the hell you want, and you want me to figure it out for you!” 

Hope feels a growl building low in her throat. “You know what I’d say to that, Park? I’d say you’re a scared little girl who would rather fight with me than be vulnerable for even one second, I’d say that everything you’re saying is pure bullshit to push me away, and I’d say maybe the reason you’re constantly acting like you’re better than everyone else is because you just can’t stand to think that Josie is right, that maybe you are just a selfish bitch after all!” 

Penelope has the audacity to laugh in her face. “ _ I’m _ scared?! You’re the one who can’t even talk to her crush for fear of caring about her! You’re the one who acts like you can handle everything, when the truth is you can’t even face your own feelings!” 

Hope snaps, raising her hands in anger, her eyes flashing yellow. “ _ Corporis impetu!” _

“ _ Reboundus _ .” Penelope blocks the spell back at Hope and Hope waves a hand to make the spell dissipate. Penelope’s smirk turns vicious. “Is that the best you can do, tribrid?” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Penelope.” Hope’s hands shake with anger as she curls and uncurls them into fists. 

“Why not? It’s not like you’re going to hurt me.” Penelope snaps her fingers and the windows go dark, the door locking so that no one can interrupt. “Because you only hurt the people you care about, right?” 

The words hit like a dagger to the heart. “ _ Fluctus inpulsa _ !” Hope hurls another spell at Penelope, uncaring about the objects around the room that are being smashed as collateral damage. “What is  _ wrong _ with you?! Why are you so  **cruel** ??” 

“What’s wrong with  _ me _ ?!” Penelope ducks Hope’s next curse and shoots one back, Hope skidding backwards with the force of the blocked blow. “That’s rich, coming from you!” 

“ _ Vados _ !” The lamp nearest to Hope flares, the lightbulb bursting from the sheer amount of magic zipping in the air between them. Hope shoots the glass shards towards Penelope, who only just avoids being hit. 

“ _ Clostrum _ .” Penelope hisses, drawing one fist in a line, surrounding Hope with a barrier spell before she can do anything else. “Jesus, you’re so fucked up.” 

“At least I have a good reason!” Hope smacks one palm on the barrier, knowing she can’t escape Penelope’s spell. “What about you?! All you do is pretend to be someone you’re not! You think we can’t tell it’s all a goddamn act to hide who you really are?! Get real! And you think you’re so great and then you go around and fuck up people’s lives for no reason! It’s like it’s all a fucking game to you!”

“And I always win.” Penelope says coldly, retracting the spell and making Hope stumble forward before she catches herself. “Is that all you’ve got? That I’m a fake bitch? Even Lizzie can do better than that.” 

“Don’t bring her into this!” 

Penelope scoffs. “God, you’re still going to defend her? Even after years of her hating you, years of the Saltzmans ignoring your hurt, your desperation for a family?! You’ve been in pain for so long and no one gives a shit!”

Hope feels wild, feral, out of control. She wants Penelope to shut up, she wants to rewind the last twenty minutes, she wants to go back to before this terrible argument, she wants to know what to do with the feelings that are welling up inside her. “Shut up!  _ Silencio! _ ”

Penelope chokes on the sudden lack of air before bringing one hand up to her throat and mouthing a spell to remove Hope’s charm. She takes a deep, heaving breath, preparing herself.

“What do you want from me, Mikaelson?” Penelope steps closer, every bit the head bitch she is known to be. “It’s not  _ my _ fault Lizzie decided to fuck someone that isn’t you!” 

“It’s not about Lizzie!” Hope snaps, even though it is a little bit about Lizzie. “ _ Clypeus! _ ” 

But it’s also more than that, it’s the helplessness and the despair and a shitty, shitty year, and about some unnamed emotion that maybe only Penelope can understand. The point of this argument is already lost but Hope can’t stop herself. 

It’s not about the fight, not anymore. It’s about the storm of emotions between them, the crackle of energy with no release. 

“ _ Protege _ !” Penelope meets Hope’s shield charm with one of her own so that the two face each other through the shimmer of two force fields, both fighting with everything they have. “Don’t you think I know that?!” Penelope’s voice taunts her, thick with emotion, the closest Hope’s ever seen her to breaking her facades. “You’re not angry with me and you’re not angry with Lizzie or fucking Sebastian! You’re angry with your parents for leaving you! You’re angry with yourself for being unable to save them! You’re angry because your life has been full of pain and because you think you’ll always be alone!” 

Her words spark some horrible feeling deep within Hope. “Maybe that’s what I deserve!” Hope yells, chest heaving with the extersion of resisting Penelope’s attack. 

“You’re wrong.” Penelope’s eyes are impossibly dark, her stance sure, as if she’d known all along that it would come to this. Her forcefield disappears.

“Yeah, like you would know.” Hope scoffs, retracting her own shield spell and turning to leave before she does something she really regrets. 

Penelope grabs her wrist, tugging Hope back to face her. “I know you, Hope Mikaelson. And you know me. You’re just afraid of caring!” 

“I’m not afraid, I just _don’t_ _care_!” Hope is aware she’s shouting, but cannot quite reign in her anger enough to stop, the lies tasting bitter on her tongue. “And you’re the one who’s constantly pretending! No wonder Josie wants nothing to do with you! You’re so fucking full of shit, why would I want to know you, anyway?! Maybe the truth is that I’d rather be alone than be with _YOU!_”

“Then why are you still here?” Penelope snarls, unbearably smug even through her anger and hurt, crowding into Hope’s space with that look of wild triumph in her eyes. “Why are you here at all?!” 

Later, thinking back to this moment, Hope will be unable to explain to herself what happens next. 

It’s just that Penelope is right there, and Hope is just so angry, so full of feelings with nowhere to go, nothing to stop her. She steps forward, closing the distance between them, and Penelope does not step back. She never does, and Hope knows this, expects it. The air is vibrating with tension and magic and everything they are not saying out loud and Hope snaps, letting all her emotions drive her next move. Before Penelope can speak, Hope kisses her.

Hope  _ kisses _ Penelope. 

It is not a gentle, loving kiss. It’s messy and hard and hot, all pent up desire and angst and tension compressed down into the space where their lips touch. It’s all teeth and tongue, Penelope pressing back against Hope, as infuriating now as she’s ever been. 

It’s exactly what Hope needs. 

It’s like a dam has been broken; all the emotion, the struggle, the back and forth of the last five months, she pours it all into the kiss, into the relentless push of her lips against Penelope’s, the lightning strikes of want that hit her with each touch of Penelope’s hands, erasing all the other feelings, reducing her world to just this, to just the heat of Penelope’s body against her own. 

Hope bites at Penelope’s lip, dragging her teeth, and feels a pulse of want at the resulting moan that fights its way out of the back of Penelope’s throat. Hope knows Penelope would never willingly express that kind of vulnerable desire, so it must be because she can’t help it, which is a dizzying thought. It’s like the rush Hope gets after winning a fight, only a thousand times stronger, adrenaline shooting through her veins as she kisses Penelope. It feels impossibly good.

Penelope’s hands roam Hope’s body like she can’t decide where to devote her attention, her palms burning paths down Hope’s sides, caressing the back of her neck, tugging at her waist to bring her closer. Hope reacts by threading her hands through Penelope’s hair and kissing her harder, a deep, bruising kiss that makes every inch of Hope’s body flood with want. Her head spins with the sheer force of her desire, acutely aware of each and every spot where Penelope’s body meets her own. Hope kisses Penelope like she may never kiss her again and Penelope matches her intensity. It’s unstoppable force meets immovable object, a collision of power and hunger and passion. 

And because it’s  _ Penelope _ she’s kissing, she expects her to have some line about Hope being desperate or whatever, but when Hope pulls back to breathe, Penelope is only grinning crookedly, her eyes bright. 

“Finally.” She murmurs, breathless, before moving back in, tugging Hope to her once more. 

Hope gets lost in the kiss, in the smooth slide of Penelope’s lips against her own, in the intoxicating feel of Penelope’s hands on her body. And she’s almost content to have this, to let Penelope push her to the bed and kiss her until she’s not worried about anything anymore. But she is Hope Mikaelson, after all, and nothing can ever be as simple as that.

“Penelope.” Hope pulls back, gasping. 

Penelope takes a second to open her eyes, blinking like she’s just come out of a dream. Her eyes rove Hope’s face hungrily, and for a second Hope almost lets it go. 

But she knows what she has to do. 

Hope swallows. “Penelope. This… this doesn’t mean anything, okay?”

She watches the hurt echo through Penelope’s expression before it disappears. 

It’s not fair. 

Hope knows this. She knows because she knows this isn’t a game to Penelope, that this stopped being a game a while ago. But Hope also knows what happens to the people she cares about, so it’s better this way. It’s better if she breaks Penelope’s heart and her own, if she pretends there’s no feelings here at all. It’s the only way she can let herself have this. 

“Okay?” She asks again.

Penelope is breathless, her lipstick nearly gone and her pupils still blown, but her eyes study Hope with that piercing intensity, calculating, and for a moment Hope is terrified that Penelope will say no. Because she knows Penelope knows, she knows that Penelope must see right through her; Penelope has always known, hasn’t she? 

But Penelope simply brings one hand up to brush Hope’s hair behind her ear in a move so tender and unexpected, Hope feels her knees weaken. The passion, that Hope had expected, but the warmth, the genuine care in Penelope’s eyes shakes her. 

“Okay.” Penelope’s voice is quiet and betrays none of her inner turmoil. 

“Okay?” Hope repeats in disbelief. 

“Okay, Mikaelson. If that’s what you want,” Penelope leans forward and lets her lips brush Hope’s. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we go back to kissing now?”

With that uncertainty gone, Hope is reminded how much she wants Penelope right now. “Sure.” She attempts to sound nonchalant, but her words are betrayed by the way she hungrily returns the kiss, eagerly parting her lips for Penelope’s tongue, her hands already reaching for the other woman.

Penelope’s room is in ruins and Hope has a flight to catch. They’ve both said horrible, cruel things that they can’t take back and sleeping together will only complicate an already complicated relationship. 

And yet it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters in this moment except the feeling of Penelope’s body on hers.

There’s just one last thing she has to say. 

“I still- I hate you.” Hope gasps out as Penelope backs her to the wall. 

“I know.” Penelope murmurs against her neck, and then she moves her mouth lower and Hope can’t remember any words at all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you catch the line from carmilla?  
Thank you to all of you for commenting. I swear every time i got a notification for a new comment, i would go open up the doc and start writing again. I really really appreciate all of them. Good to know there’s a few fellow henelope fans out there  
to be quite honest, the two month wait between chapters is pretty fast for me, especially since this fic is approaching novel length. but again, the comments really do encourage me so... feel free to comment again with your ideas or favorite lines or feedback or whatever, cause parts of chapter 3 have been written and let me just say… it gets good ladies (still no plot but like... a lot of making out in inappropriate places). I worked really hard on this chapter so I really hope you like it tbh  



	3. part three: what have you done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you believe in soulmates?” Penelope asks.  
Hope almost laughs out loud. “No. I think this world is too cruel to have anything as pure as a love like that.”  
Hope can feel the stretch of Penelope’s lips as she grins against her neck. All others, she assumes, would be heartbroken at her words. But not Penelope. Penelope knows exactly what she means.  
“Then what are we?” Penelope’s whisper is sly, coy, even, but Hope knows her too well now to be stumped by questions like this.  
“I’m your punishment,” Hope says plainly, tugging at Penelope’s hair to bring her back to her lips.  
They kiss for so long, Hope has almost forgotten the conversation. But Penelope drags herself away, all tousled hair and bedroom eyes, and whispers back: “And I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the ratings change, ladies.  
the real summary for the first half of this chapter is “they fuck- but like... for the character development. for the angst. for the drama.” the second half is: "they're soft, they're in love, but like... they're not gonna say it."  
we even got some actual plot in here!! just... pretend it makes sense, okay? the plot is merely the vehicle for the romance! and- 42,000 words babey!  
please note there is a scene with ptsd-related panic attacks discussed in detail. if that is an issue, feel free to message me and i can let you know which paragraphs to avoid.  
Also this chapter ends on a sad cliffhanger but it's just for the drama! y'all know the fic has a happy ending! it's just for the angst, for the hurt/comfort of it all!!

_I didn’t know there was this want in me:_  
_the outline of your knuckles in the silver light,_  
_your thick wrist, the swell of your forearm,_  
_all the effortless heat you shed. I didn’t know_  
_that the desire would break through me,_  
  
_wave after wave of it, pounding and sudden._  
_How I worried that you’d turn to see it, that_  
_I wanted to have you pin me in the dark, to be_  
_held down by you, to have all this hunger rise_  
_to my surface and to have you taste it._

* * *

“Oh, fuck.”

Penelope’s head hits the wall of the supply closet with a dull thunk that Hope ignores. 

“I always knew you’d be loud,” Hope mutters as she sucks a bruise into the smooth skin at Penelope’s collarbone. 

“So..” Penelope is trying for a flirty tone, but it's kind of ruined by how breathless she is, “you’re saying you’ve-” Hope bites at the hickey and then soothes it with her tongue and Penelope’s breath hitches again, her nails digging hard into Hope’s back, “-thought about it?” 

“Shut  _ up _ , Penelope.” 

Hope already knows what Penelope’s going to say before she says it- 

“Make me.” 

-but, to be honest, it’s not as annoying now that Hope can actually  _ do _ something about it. 

As in, now she  _ can _ make Penelope shut up, by coming back up to kiss her deeply, sliding one hand under Penelope’s blouse to scrape her nails along Penelope’s stomach and feel her hips jerk forward in response. It’s so gratifying, to hear Penelope Park gasping with desire and know it’s because of  _ her _ . Penelope fucking Park, the unattainable, the unbreakable, melting under  _ her _ hands. 

The rush it gives Hope is indescribable; she can’t believe she survived a month without this feeling.

-

Winter break goes like this:

After their fight and subsequent… making up, Hope leaves Penelope’s room without waking her, barely making it to the airport in time for her flight. Hope boards the plane trying desperately not to think of the last few hours, which is hard because she can still fucking smell Penelope on her skin, can feel the sting of the scratches Penelope’s nails left on her back. 

When Hope lands in Louisiana, her phone is conspicuously silent and- not that Hope expected Penelope to text her, or anything, and she wouldn’t have known what to say even if she had, but still- a very, very, very small part of her is disappointed. Then she’s swept up in the reunions with her aunts and family friends and holiday festivities, so at least she doesn’t have time to brood, to wonder if Penelope regrets it, to wonder if _ she _ herself regrets it. 

Penelope’s social media features a barrage of photos of her across Europe, smiling with beautiful girls in Berlin, in Paris, in Milan. Technically, Hope doesn’t even follow Penelope on any accounts, just in case either of the twins were to notice, but Hope just checks each night, torturing herself by viewing Penelope’s latest stories. Something hard and unfamiliar twists in her gut each time Hope sees another picture of Penelope, her arm wrapped around some tan, admittedly gorgeous, girl on the beach in Sorrento or whatever. And Hope is fairly certain all the posts are just an attempt to make Josie jealous (not that it will work; the twins are with their mom for Christmas and haven’t been on their phones much at all. Hope has been trying to limit her texts to Lizzie to one text a day), so it doesn’t mean anything anyway, probably. 

On New Year’s Eve, Penelope arrives in Brussels, according to a series of instagram stories taken by a heavily tattooed man who keeps standing far too close to Penelope, in Hope’s personal opinion. Brussels is in Belgium, which is almost five thousand miles from New Orleans, not that she’s counting. Hope is staying with Freya and Keelin and tonight their house is full of life, lit from top to bottom and teeming with party-goers ready to celebrate the New Year.

Hope is not one of the revelers, though. She stays long enough to say hello to all the old family friends and smile at Freya and Keelin dancing together, but the first chance she gets, Hope slips out one of the side doors and onto the porch. With the door shut, the party fades, the chatter of friends and lovers amid the rumble of music all becoming background noise. 

Hope sits down on the porch with her feet on the step below, propping her chin on her knees. She can’t quite grasp the reason for her melancholy. By all accounts, her winter break has been a decent one; even the myriad of supernatural problems that usually seem to follow Hope have left her alone. 

Maybe it’s not fair to say she can’t figure out why she’s out of sorts. 

It’s not that she doesn’t know- it’s that she doesn’t want to think about it. 

She doesn’t want to think about Penelope Park, doesn’t want to acknowledge that she might miss her, and certainly doesn’t want to address what happened in Penelope’s dorm room before she left, although her subconscious must disagree, judging by the number of times Hope has woken up breathless and turned on from a dream she can’t remember.

Most of all, Hope doesn’t want to think about how something is irrevocably different now, how sleeping with Penelope appears to have altered something in her head. She doesn’t want to acknowledge how her mind was preoccupied with  _ Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie _ , all the time, and now, jarringly, when she tries not to think of Lizzie, it’s Penelope who appears in her thoughts. 

Plus, Hope is 95% certain that Penelope not texting her first now is some sort of power move or tactic or whatever- which only pisses Hope off more, because sometimes Penelope is ridiculously infuriating and yet Hope  _ still  _ can’t stop thinking about her? 

“Infuriating.” Hope huffs under her breath, glowering down at Penelope’s contact photo, which Penelope herself had set. It’s Penelope, Natasha, Jasmine, and Layla at their movie night, with a bemused Hope in the background of the shot. 

She can just  _ see _ Penelope’s smug smile of satisfaction if Hope texts her first, which is why she refuses to do it. But then Hope starts wondering if Penelope is waiting for her to text or if she’s not thinking of Hope at all, and then Hope gets mad at herself for thinking about Penelope at all, and tries to force herself not to, and then it doesn’t work, and the cycle starts all over again. 

The pulsing buzz of noise from the party increases for a moment as the door opens, temporarily flooding the porch with light, and Freya steps out. 

“Hi, sweetie. Everything okay out here?”

Hope gives her aunt a small smile before going back to gazing out at the darkness. Even in the dead of winter, New Orleans doesn’t get very cold; in the expanse of shadowed lawn, Hope can hear the chirping of crickets. “Yeah. I was just getting some air.” 

Freya sighs, settling on the porch next to her niece. 

“Is it a boy?”

Hope glances to the side in confusion. “What?”

Freya is smiling. “The reason you’ve been glaring at your phone for the whole time you’ve been here. Is it because of a boy? That Landon kid?” 

Hope huffs, shaking her head. “No. Definitely not.” 

Freya nods thoughtfully. “Is it a girl?” 

“Um...” Hope looks back down at her phone in case she’s blushing. “No?”

“Hmm.” Freya scoots closer so she can bump her shoulder against Hope’s. “Are you sure? How’s Elizabeth Saltman doing?”

Hope winces a little. “How did you know about that?”

“You’re not very subtle with your feelings. Mikaelsons never really are.” 

“Ha. Well. It’s… I don’t know. She’s dating this new guy. It’s.. I’m over it.” 

Freya gives her a look, so Hope amends her statement: “I’m trying to get over it.” 

“So it’s someone else?” 

“It’s not like that.”

“Ahuh.”

“I mean it.” Hope runs her hands through her hair in frustration. “I don’t even like her! I hate her, actually. But I can’t get her out of my head… it’s like she’s bewitched me or something.” 

“Hmm… it doesn’t sound like you hate her.” 

Hope is shaking her head before Freya finishes the sentence. “Trust me. I hate her.” 

Freya hums in disagreement, but doesn’t push the point. “Alright. Why?”

“That’s the worst part...” Hope says with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. “She’s Josie Saltzman’s ex. The breakup was brutal. Lizzie considers her Public Enemy #1 and to be honest, that’s fair because she’s a total bitch to Lizzie. And anyone else she doesn’t like.” 

Freya bursts out laughing. “Ohh honey. That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.” 

“Nothing is going to happen!!” Hope sits up, insisting, but something must show on her face because Freya raises an eyebrow at her until Hope relents: “Okay, nothing  _ else _ is going to happen.” 

“Else?” 

Hope heaves a long-suffering sigh. “We don’t have enough time for me to recap everything. We really don’t.”

“Alright, then just cut to the important stuff.” Freya leans over and wraps her arm around Hope, resting her head on Hope’s shoulder. “If you hate her so much and she’s so awful, why don’t you just tell her to leave you alone?” 

“That’s…” Hope’s indignance fades out as she exhales. “...I don’t know. Like, not to break into dramatic metaphors here-”

Freya nods. 

“-but she’s like a kaleidoscope. Every time I think I see the real her, she turns and becomes something different. And at first I just thought that meant she was fake, two-faced or whatever, but maybe it really means she’s a person with many facets and just because she’s mean sometimes doesn’t mean she’s a bad person. Do you know what I mean?

"That's... extremely gay." 

“What?” 

“It sounds very complicated.” Freya says sympathetically. “But that doesn’t explain why you can’t text her.” 

Oh, right. Hope looks down at her silent phone in accusation. “I can’t… because I hate her.”

“Don’t give me that. What’s the  _ real _ reason?”

Hope swallows, fiddling with her phone between her fingers. She takes a deep breath. “It’s just like… Do you ever worry about putting people in danger? Just by being close to them? Because we’re Mikaelsons?” She bites her lip as soon as she says it, stopping any other words from spilling out. From the corner of her eye, she can see Freya’s expression turn thoughtful. She sits up. 

Then Freya sighs. “When the Hollow entered my mind…” 

Hope inhales, sharp. 

“She looked for my greatest fear. And she used it against me.” Freya gives Hope a half smile. “Do you know what it was?”

Hope shakes her head. 

“It was Keelin dying. Her blood on my hands. I..” Freya shakes her head, caught up in old memories. “I never wanted to be the reason she got hurt. There were so many times where I convinced myself to walk away…” 

“But you didn’t.” Hope’s confusion is evident in her tone. “Why?” 

“Because it’s their choice too. Yes, there’s always a risk, but they know that risk and sometimes…” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “They choose to be with us despite that risk. And we may be Mikaelsons, but we deserve happiness, Hope. You deserve to be happy.” 

Hope doesn’t know how to reply to that, turning her head to the side to hide the sudden moisture in her eyes. 

The frenzied cacophony of music and laughter from inside rises in pitch. Freya glances back towards the party. 

“I think your presence as the party host is needed.” 

Freya turns towards Hope again, her gaze watchful. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, of course. Go enjoy your party!” 

Freya doesn’t look quite convinced, but she stands up anyway, the steps of the old house creaking as she makes her way to the door.

“Oh, by the way.” Freya turns back before she steps back inside, the clamour of the crowd beckoning. “This came in the mail for you today.” She sends the item fluttering on a gust of wind into Hope’s lap. 

The door shuts, but Hope is no longer paying attention, her eyes focused on the postcard. 

The front is a beautiful castle at night, lights shining out against the dark sky. Across the bottom it reads in cartoonish, tourism font: “GREETINGS FROM BRUSSELS! WISH YOU WERE HERE!”

Hope flips over the card to see the simple sentence scrawled on the back.  _ Happy holidays, Mikaelson. See you soon. -P _

She can practically hear Penelope saying it, can picture the smirk she’d have, and the sharp, acute pulse of need in Hope’s chest leaves her momentarily breathless. 

Hope has her phone out, her fingers dialing Penelope’s number before she can talk herself out of it, before she can even think about it. 

It rings once, twice, three times, and Hope is about to hang up, when: 

“Hope Mikaelson.”

Penelope’s voice is low and gravely, like it always is after she’s been smoking; the mere sound sets Hope’s heart racing. Jesus Christ, what is wrong with her? And why does Penelope have to say her name like a secret, like she’s been waiting for Hope’s call?

“Penelope Park.” Since no one can see her, Hope shakes her head at herself. Why did she call? She doesn’t have anything to say! God. The knowledge of what occurred the last time they spoke weighs down the conversation. She listens to the static of Penelope’s breathing through the phone and tries not to panic. 

She’s one awkward second away from just hanging up when Penelope drawls: “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m wearing?” 

Hope exhales with a laugh, the tension dropping from her shoulders. “I suppose it was too much to hope that a new year meant a new you, huh?”

“Oh, please. Why mess with perfection?” 

With her eyes closed, it’s easy for Hope to picture Penelope speaking, the tilt of her head, the smirk pulling at her lips. Her own smile spreads across her face without permission. 

There’s the sound of shuffling as Penelope settles. “Was there a reason for this call, or did you just miss the sound of my voice?” 

Hope is absolutely going to ignore the tiny part of her that says that the latter statement is true. “I wanted to see if you have any new year's resolutions. Because if not, I have a few suggestions.” 

Penelope laughs softly. “So you’ve been thinking of me? Be careful, Hope, they say the way you spend your New Year’s Eve is the way you’ll spend the new year.” 

“So I’m going to spend this year being annoyed by you? That sounds just like last year.” 

“Annoyed?! I think you mean ‘thoroughly charmed’.” Hope just  _ knows _ Penelope is pouting. “Why, have you found someone more interesting to talk to in New Orleans?” 

Hope leans against the porch railing, subconsciously pressing the phone closer as if that will erase the distance between them. “Not yet, but believe me, I’ve tried.” They are treading very lightly around asking if one of them misses the other. “You haven’t found someone in Europe you’d rather annoy?” 

“Well if you followed my instagram, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” 

Logically, Hope knows there’s no way that Penelope knows she’s been checking her instagram, but there’s something in her tone that makes Hope change the subject before she gets called out. 

“I got your postcard, by the way.” Hope flips the aforementioned card over and over, tracing the dark letters in Penelope’s handwriting. “You know you could just send a text, right?” 

“Oh, _ I _ could send a text? So your phone sends and receives text messages? Because I was starting to wonder, you know, since I haven’t got a text since break started.” 

Hope blushes despite herself. “Why do I have to be the one to text first?” 

“Because,” Hope hears the click of the lighter, Penelope’s soft exhale, “I shouldn’t be the one doing all the work.” 

“ _ The work _ ?” Hope repeats. “Are you implying I’m  _ work _ ?” It’s so easy, too easy, really, to fall into their familiar banter, to exaggerate her voice to sound offended, to fish for a compliment, just a little. 

“All the best things require some work, Hope. But I don’t mind a little challenge.” 

Hope laughs a genuine laugh, her head tipping back against the wood. “You’re so full of shit.” 

“So you didn’t like the postcard?” She can’t see her, but presumably Penelope is fluttering her eyelashes in that way she does. 

“I appreciated the postcard.” Hope admits, because that’s okay, isn’t it? That’s not too much. 

“Good. I wanted you to know..” Penelope hesitates and Hope can hear her nervous swallow through the phone. “... that I was thinking of you.” 

It’s clear Penelope is going for flirty, but it ends up coming out earnest. 

“Oh.” Hope bites her lip. 

Her immediate reaction is to panic because there’s really no other way to take that than romantic. But beyond the panic, beneath the waves of instinctual dread that come with anyone making a statement of attachment (not that that occurs very often in Hope’s life), she feels a warm sensation unfurling in her stomach. For a moment, Hope has the distinct impression if she were standing, she’d be weak at the knees. “That’s…” 

“I also got you a horrible souvenir.” Penelope adds when the silence has gone on too long, and she laughs a clearly fake laugh. 

Hope clears her throat. “Penelope,” 

There’s a burst of noise on the other end of the phone, someone calling Penelope’s name. 

“I should go.” Penelope says, and Hope hates it. Hates that she isn’t going to stop her, hates that she can’t just enjoy the rush of heat that is rapidly fading when faced with the frigid burst of reality. Hates that all she’s going to say is: 

“Goodnight, Penelope.” And she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to imagine Penelope’s face when Penelope replies softly: 

“Goodnight, Hope. Happy New Year.” 

For a moment, they just sit there, listening to each other breathe. Eventually, Hope pulls the phone away and ends the call. 

She exhales hard, leaning forward to rest her forehead on her knees.  _ Jesus Christ.  _

Obviously there’s nothing left to do but go inside and drink. 

As she stands up, brushing her hair back, composing herself, she glances down at her phone, the call log still open, and she sees the time: 12:03. 

It’s a new year. 

She takes one last look at Penelope’s contact photo before she goes back inside, deciding she’ll wait a few minutes before she texts Lizzie happy new year. 

-

Two weeks later, Hope arrives back at Salvatore late Sunday night. 

She likes visiting her aunt, but New Orleans will always feel bittersweet for Hope; there are too many memories for her there, good and bad ones. Salvatore is what feels like home, the creaking wood beneath her feet, the cool stone in the hallways. 

But Hope can’t deny it- there’s a thread of anticipation in her stomach, a nervousness she doesn’t usually have when returning to school. The worst part is she doesn’t know if it’s because of Lizzie or Penelope. That night she barely sleeps, restless and wanting for something she can’t articulate. 

Before the first classes of the Spring semester, Hope has breakfast with Josie (Lizzie is reuniting with Sebastian, which Hope is trying not to think about), dutifully listening to the stories from the twins’ winter break and pretending all the while that she’s not looking for anyone as classmates hurry by. 

She’s walking to her locker during the morning passing period when Penelope quite literally appears out of thin air and pulls her into the supply closet. 

“What the hell-” 

Hope’s sentence is cut off when Penelope threads her fingers into Hope’s hair and kisses her. 

And yeah, maybe Hope had planned to tell Penelope that sleeping with her was a mistake. Maybe every night for the last two weeks she had laid there in the dark and convinced herself that it was a bad idea, that she was Hope Mikaelson and it was too risky to be with Penelope, even if it was in a purely not-even-friends with benefits way. Maybe she’d arrived at Salvatore with the firm intent to pretend it had never happened. 

But the moment Penelope’s lips touch her own, Hope throws all her plans out the window. 

She instinctively kisses Penelope back, kisses her like she’d been waiting to do this again since the moment they stopped. Penelope starts to pull away and Hope makes an embarrassing noise, her hands shooting to Penelope’s hips to keep her close as Hope surges up to kiss her again. She can’t  _ believe _ she forgot how good this feels. How could Hope have forgotten the intoxicating rush of heat, the way her mind goes totally, blissfully, blank when Penelope does that thing with her tongue, the weight of responsibility that slips from her shoulders at the first touch of Penelope’s hands?

Hope’s never been selfish; she’s never taken what she wants no matter what everyone else thinks. And it would be selfish, she knows, to keep doing this with Penelope, to keep kissing her when Hope  _ knows _ what a threat she is to others, when she knows that it will all go wrong. 

But when Penelope touches her, she doesn’t care about any of it. When Hope is kissing Penelope, she forgets about the burden of her legacy, the twisted knot of complications that is her and Penelope’s relationship, the love of her life that doesn’t want her, the dark clouds that normally hang over her every move. She forgets all of it. 

And it could be addicting, if Hope stays, if she lets herself have this. 

But she shouldn’t. Hope knows she shouldn’t.

Reluctantly, she ends the kiss, pulling back slightly to look at Penelope for the first time in a month, her eyes roaming over Penelope’s form, soaking her in. 

“Missed me over break?” Hope is still panting, but she tries to brush her hair back casually. 

Penelope laughs, looking thoroughly disheveled in the hottest way possible. It makes Hope want to pull her back in. “Something like that.”

Now, of course, would be the time to tell Penelope they can’t do this. But Penelope leans forward to recapture Hope’s lips with her own and Hope decides she can wait and tell her tomorrow. 

* * *

“Hope.”

Hope doesn’t flinch when she steps out of her room and finds Penelope waiting for her, but it’s a close thing. Part of her expected it, to be honest, but that doesn’t mean she’s any more prepared for the conversation she knows they’re going to have to have. 

“Penelope.” She says, as disinterested as she can manage to sound as she brushes past Penelope, careful not to touch her. “Don’t you have classes to make an appearance at?” 

“It’s week two of our final semester.” Penelope breaks into a jog to keep up with Hope’s long strides. “I’m not going to regret missing another overview of the syllabi and some rudimentary spells.”

“Your commitment to your education is inspiring.” Hope opens her locker and grabs blindly for her books, sparing all her concentration for not looking at Penelope. “But hardly my concern.” 

“Hope.” Penelope repeats, her voice a little sharper, annoyed now, and Hope smiles internally because the easiest way to rile Penelope up is to not give her the attention she’s looking for. “Don’t you think we need to talk about this?” 

Hope makes a face and steps around Penelope. She could really do without the blatant attempts by the author to draw parallels between Hope and Josie’s relationships with Penelope. “Oh,  _ now _ you want to talk?”

Honestly, Hope really couldn’t tell you a single thing discussed in class all last week. 

She’d left the hallway closet thoroughly distracted, jumpy and flustered for the rest of the day. She’d meant to tell Penelope that they couldn’t do this, she really had, but it’s hard to think clearly while Penelope is kissing her. 

In the harsh light of day, Hope remembers what a bad idea it is, but then of course, she can’t work up the nerve to bring it up, and then she’s kissing Penelope again and like...

Like, yes she knows that it’s bad for her to form a connection with anyone, and yes, she knows if/when the twins find out about it, there will be hell to pay... but is she really hurting anyone? 

Only herself, inevitably, when Penelope decides to move on, or Penelope, maybe, because she associates with Hope, but that seemed to only happened to people Hope loves, so as long as Hope doesn’t fall in love with-

Hope decides not to continue that line of thinking. Anyway, she’s decided to deal with it by not dealing with it. Instead, every time Penelope tries to talk about it, Hope kisses her. And Hope tries not to be the arrogant type, but it’s hard to not feel cocky when Penelope kisses her back like she’s sick and Hope is the cure, like Penelope’s been walking thirty days in the desert and Hope is the first sign of water, like Hope is oxygen and Penelope’s just been pulled from the ocean; Penelope kisses Hope like she  _ needs  _ her. 

Everyone needs Hope Mikaelson- to protect them, to fight for them, to teach them or help them or save them. But Penelope Park... Penelope only asks for what Hope is all-too-willing to give. 

Penelope keeps pace with Hope as they walk toward her classroom. 

“Mikaelson, we both know how this is going to go. You’ll say ‘we can’t do this!’,” Penelope pitches her voice into the worst imitation of Hope that Hope’s ever seen, “It’s bad! I’m a curse to everyone I touch!’ etc, even though there’s no  _ real _ reason why we shouldn’t, and I’ll pretend to agree, and then two weeks from now you’ll have a bad night and end up right back at my doorway and we’ll have to repeat this  _ all _ over again.” 

The smug way Penelope says it, as if it’s inevitable, makes Hope growl under her breath. “You really think the world revolves around you, don’t you?” 

“I don’t  _ think _ that, I know it.” Penelope says impatiently, waving it off as if irrelevant to the discussion at hand. “Seriously, we should talk about this.” 

Hope speeds up her pace. It’s a game of chicken, really, because Josie will be waiting for Hope at the door of the classroom so one of them will have to stop walking before then to make sure Josie doesn’t see them together. They round the corner, still in step, and Penelope doesn’t slow down. Hope keeps waiting for Penelope to stop before they get there, but her stride doesn’t falter. 

“Ugh, you can’t just- fine!” Hope grabs Penelope by the hand and tugs her down an empty side corridor before they hit the classroom door. Penelope goes willingly, Hope’s momentum propelling them to the side, and she ends up pushed against the stone wall, held there by Hope’s firm grip. 

For a moment, they just look at each other. In the background, Hope is distantly aware of the bell ringing, the last minute shuffle of students arriving for class. It’s hard to care about that, though, when she’s close enough to count Penelope’s freckles, their lips a hair’s breadth apart. It’s possible she was going to tell Penelope to fuck off, but suddenly all the words have dropped right out of her head. Penelope’s eyes flutter shut in anticipation and Hope instinctively leans forward to connect their lips-

Then she remembers she’s not supposed to be doing this and steps back abruptly, releasing Penelope from her hold. 

“Fine. You wanna talk? Let’s talk.  _ Just _ talk.” Hope adds when Penelope attempts to slip one hand into Hope’s front pocket and pull her closer. 

Penelope pouts but lets her hand fall away. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Hope asks, knowing she won’t get an answer and following Penelope anyway.

“Don’t you trust me?” 

“Of course not.” 

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Okay, that’s fair. But still.” She stops them in front of the locked door which leads to the stairway to the roof. 

“I really don’t see why we have to talk about this.” Hope grumbles as she brushes past Penelope and takes the stairs a little faster than she knows will be possible for Penelope. 

“Hope.” Penelope reaches out and tugs Hope’s hand, halting her movement just before they reach the door to outside. Penelope’s grip is light, hesitant.

“Look. If you think it was all a mistake, that’s fine. If you want to pretend it never happened? Fine. I can do that. But don’t avoid me, okay?” She looks off to the side, then back at Hope. “Please.” 

Hope exhales, slow and controlled, and when she breathes in again, all she can smell is Penelope, lavender and smoke and a hint of something indescribable. 

“Bullshit. You don’t do this kind of thing, talking and waiting and being understanding. You’re the most self-centered, narcissistic person anyone’s ever met and if I told you I wanted to forget about it, you’d bring it up every day until the day you died, just to torment me.” 

It’s disconcerting because Hope means to say it in an accusatory fashion, cruel like the way she said it all those months ago, but instead it comes out halfway fond. 

Penelope tilts her head to the side as she smiles, just a little, clearly pleased at Hope detecting her bullshit, and her eyes are so bright and deep, Hope feels like she could fall right into them. “Okay, sure. Maybe I would. And maybe I’m just using you to forget about Josie and maybe you’re just using me to forget about Lizzie. But is that such a bad thing?”

“ _ Is _ that what we’re doing?” Hope asks, and she can't tell if she’s relieved or disappointed. 

“If that’s what you want it to be.”

“That’s such a cop out. I’m on to you, Park.” Hope points a finger at her accusingly. “Pretending to be chivalrous, just so you don’t have to take the responsibility.” 

Penelope genuinely perks up. “It’s so hot when you call me out like that.” 

“Ugh.” Hope just shakes her head and shoves open the door to let Penelope lead them onto the rooftop. 

She doesn’t really want to be a bitch to Penelope, but Hope’s a little worried if she isn’t mean, she’ll sound  _ enamored _ and that’s much worse. 

Penelope conjures a cooler from midair and pulls from it a bottle of champagne, showing it to Hope triumphantly. 

“Champagne. On the roof.” Hope says, eyes narrowed. She refuses to be charmed by such cliche gestures; she’s sure if she is, Penelope will pull chocolate dipped strawberries from her purse or something. “Do you get all your moves from a playbook or something?” 

Penelope walks backwards so she can keep her eyes on Hope, holding her arms out in innocence. “Sometimes the classics are classics for a reason, Hope.” 

Hope rolls her eyes but follows Penelope over to the blanket which has suddenly appeared. 

“You didn’t ask,” Penelope starts as they settle down, “but let me tell you about my winter break.”

Just like their phone call, it’s a little frightening to Hope, how fast she and Penelope can fall into a repartee of sarcasm, flirting, and occasional insults. It’s Penelope who carries the conversation, of course, but she has a sneaky way of getting Hope to talk about herself and half the time Hope doesn’t realize it until she sees Penelope trying to hide a self-satisfied smile. 

She barely notices the time passing, the sun crossing the sky, the classes she should be attending ending and the next ones beginning, but Hope can’t bring herself to care. 

She feels a horribly pleasant sensation, hot and bright and burning in her chest, and in any other world, with any other girl, Hope realizes she would consider this  _ a date _ . 

But it’s not. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not, and wishing it could be doesn’t change anything. 

Not that she’s wishing that, anyway. 

“I got in all my college applications, by the way.” 

Not this again. Hope does not enjoy discussions about the future, which she’s made very clear to Penelope. “Oh good. All California and New York?” 

“You know it.” Penelope scoots forward so that their knees are touching, reaching out to take Hope’s hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Hope stiffens. “What are you doing?” 

Penelope runs a thumb over Hope’s knuckles. “I’m about to ask if you applied to any colleges and I think you might run away instead of answering. So.” She interlocks their fingers, ensuring that Hope can’t run without dragging Penelope with her. 

“I don’t run away from questions.” Hope says, affronted, but she doesn’t try to pull her hand away, although they both know she could do so easily. 

“Oh, no?” Penelope cocks an eyebrow at her. “Did you end up applying to any schools?” 

Hope grimaces, resisting the immediate urge to back away from the question. “You know that I didn’t. I’m never getting out of here. I’ll be protecting Mystic Falls forever.” And as the words fall from her lips, Hope can feel the truth in them. She’s never said this out loud before; there is no future for her anywhere but here. 

Penelope’s fingers are feather-light on her wrist. She’s not looking at Hope when she speaks; she’s staring out towards the gate that leads to Mystic Falls. 

“Because you want to?” She asks, and though Penelope can’t possibly understand Hope’s burden, her voice is heavy all the same. “Or because that’s what you think you deserve?” 

Hope watches Penelope’s thumb brush over one of Hope’s long-forgotten scars and thinks about a physics article she’d had to read once. It’s impossible to actually touch things, it had said, and what your brain  _ perceives _ as touch is just atoms hovering near each other, an unfathomably small distance apart. Hope watches Penelope touch her and wishes, for a moment, that she could erase that distance between them. She swallows. 

“Does it matter?”

Penelope does look at her, then, and she answers her like it’s obvious. “Of course it matters, Hope. Of course it does.” 

They hold eye contact for a long moment and Hope lets herself imagine.

She lets herself think of a world where she is no one important, a world where she goes to college and shares a too-small dorm with Penelope and hangs out at bars with her friends on weekends and shows up at parties just to sneak out early and budgets poorly and has to eat nothing but peanut butter sandwiches for a week and gets a job that she hates and travels because she can, because she’s young and free of responsibility, and all the normal things normal humans do after high school graduation.

And then she lets it go. 

She shakes her head, wrenching her hand from Penelope’s. “Don’t, Penelope. Just don’t, okay? You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Penelope shrugs, seemingly unaffected, but Hope sees her lips pressed together in displeasure for a moment. Penelope drops Hope’s hand, letting her own hand fall to Hope’s thigh, and sighs. 

“Well, I tried.”

Hope can feel the heat of Penelope’s palm searing her skin like a brand. She’s spent her whole life around the supernatural and magical and yet, Hope can’t think of a single explanation for why she’s so hyper-attuned to the space between herself and Penelope, for why she can feel the desire flood her veins like a fever. It’s like a switch has been flipped, like wearing glasses after a life of blindness; now that Hope knows what it feels like to kiss Penelope, one touch from her sets all her senses on alert. The temptation to lean forward and kiss her is almost unbearable. 

“Oh, I almost forgot; This is for you.” The tone of Penelope’s voice is too studiously casual to be anything but planned. She produces from thin air, again, a tiny snow globe, complete with a tiny scene of Brussels. 

It’s garishly ugly, a clear attempt by Penelope to pick the worst souvenir she could find. And still, Hope is unaccountably charmed by the mere idea that Penelope thought of her while galavanting across Europe. Hope squints at Penelope. 

“Is this your attempt to charm me into sleeping with you again?”

Penelope grins. “Please. You already want to sleep with me again; it’s just a matter of how long it takes you to accept that.” 

Hope scoffs, shoving Penelope’s hand off of her and making Penelope laugh. 

“I hate you.” 

“Sure you do.” 

Hope sighs, figuring she might as well get this over with. She looks off to the side so she doesn’t have to see Penelope’s smug smile. “... I’m fine with it happening again. As long as no one finds out.” 

Penelope smiles smugly. The champagne has made her looser, less composed. She shifts closer to Hope. “You’re ‘fine’ with it? That’s not how I remember it.” 

Hope leans back on her hands so she can think clearly. “The sex was good, it’s your personality that’s the problem.” 

“Good?! Good??!” Penelope looks up to the sky as if to ask god for strength. “Why can’t you just admit you’re into me, Hope? Physically, at least. You can still continue on with your little ‘I hate Penelope Park’ campaign the rest of the time.”

“You know, maybe if you weren’t so arrogant, people wouldn’t hate you so much.” Hope suggests, pretending like the corners of her mouth aren’t turning up in a smile. 

Penelope reaches up and trails her fingers along Hope’s jawline, making Hope inhale sharply. 

“Some people like a little confidence in a woman.” Penelope murmurs, her thumb brushing Hope’s cheek. 

“Well, I’m not  _ some people _ .” Hope leans back further, just to watch Penelope tip forward to follow her, practically in Hope’s lap. 

“If you don’t remember how much you enjoyed it, I can remind you.” 

Hope smirks, because this close, she can see the dilation of Penelope’s eyes, the way her breathing has picked up. She’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be, and Hope knows it. 

“Careful, Pen.” Hope turns slightly to press her cheek to Penelope’s palm, holding eye contact. “You’re starting to sound a little desperate.” 

Penelope doesn’t take the bait. “I’m not desperate. I just know what I want.”

“And what is it that you want?” 

Penelope licks her lips slowly. “I think you know the answer to that.”

The air around them crackles with tension. The whole school could be on fire right now and Hope wouldn’t notice a thing, because she can’t bear to look away from Penelope. “Maybe I just want to hear you say it.” 

Penelope’s eyes flutter a little when Hope puts one hand on her hip, runs her fingers along the band of her skirt. “You wanna hear me say I want you, Mikaelson?” 

“Maybe I do.” Hope shifts so their lips are almost touching, refusing to close the gap herself. 

“Fine.” Penelope slides her hand to the back of Hope’s neck, fingers idly playing with the loose hairs there. “Hope Mikaelson, I….”

In the split second before Penelope finishes her sentence, Hope thinks she should be terrified. She should be running for the fucking hills, or chasing Penelope out of here, at least, because this has the potential to go south so fast. There is no way that can end in anything but disaster and they both know it. 

She parts her lips to say something, anything, but Penelope, perhaps sensing Hope’s internal conflict, catches Hope’s mouth with her own instead.

So maybe there’s no point in pretending she can go without this. 

Not now that Hope knows how Penelope tastes, the noises she makes, the way all her facades fade away when she kisses her, not now that she craves Penelope’s touch like a vampire craves blood. 

So she draws away only a little, dragging her teeth along Penelope’s bottom lip as she goes, and whispers, “Let’s go back to your room,” already knowing what Penelope’s response will be. 

Neither of them make it to class that day. 

* * *

The problem is it’s too easy. 

It’s not really any different from the previous semester. It’s still the same arguments and sarcasm and comisterating over the twins, except instead of strangely-charged goodbyes at one am, they end up in Penelope’s bed. 

Being with Penelope is the perfect distraction- from Lizzie and Sebastian, from the darkness that haunts her, from anything Hope doesn’t want to think about. 

Like this week, when she feels the despair begin to creep back into her mind? Normally Hope would get wasted, or punch something until she bleeds, or turn to her wolf form and run until her legs give out. But now she can just text Penelope, show up at her door late at night, and kiss her until the rest of the world fades away. Now Hope distracts herself with mapping the curves of Penelope’s body with her hands, with the sting of her teeth on Penelope’s skin, with the way Penelope says her name when Hope crooks her fingers just so. 

It’s thrilling, it’s addicting, it’s easy to lose herself in. 

It’s Friday night and Hope is definitely supposed to have left by now to meet the twins, MG, Landon, and Sebastian for dinner. It’s a weekly ritual they’re trying to start this year, one that Hope is about to ruin by not showing up on week two. Alaric had encouraged her to be more social this year too, but evidently that resolution is not going to last. 

“I have to go.” Hope protests weakly, even as she tears herself away from Penelope’s lips to kiss along the smooth column of her throat. 

“You can stop anytime you want.” Penelope is breathless, her nails digging into Hope’s back at just the right side of the line between pleasure and pain. 

Hope would never admit it, obviously- Penelope certainly doesn’t need the ego boost- but the rumors are true: Penelope Park is an amazing kisser. Hope should’ve left at least five minutes ago and yet, she can’t quite force herself to go. 

It’s probably because most of the time, it’s hard to see past Penelope’s “heartless head bitch/womanizer” persona, but when she’s kissing Hope? 

God. 

When Penelope is kissing Hope, it’s like all Penelope’s facades fall away, all her calculated looks and wicked smiles  _ gone _ . In their place is the real Penelope, willing and pliant under Hope’s hands. All of Penelope’s flippant words are contradicted by the tender way she kisses Hope, by the way she sinks into each kiss like she’s been waiting for it all day. 

Not that that means Penelope is  _ gentle _ . Hope wouldn’t stand for it if she was; if Hope appreciates anything about their relationship, it’s that Penelope doesn’t go easy on her. Penelope gives as good as she gets, and Hope can’t deny the challenge of it all turns her on. 

Hope’s not even sure what time it is anymore. She keeps getting lost in the feeling, in the way that kissing Penelope overwhelms all other senses. She’s struggling to catch her breath, just a little, but she’s loath to say so, partly because it means they’ll have to stop kissing and partly because Penelope will get all smug about it. 

Hope runs her hand under Penelope’s skirt to rest it along the curve of her ass. “You know,” She uses the dialogue as a chance to breathe, “I know you’re just doing this so I’ll be late to dinner and Lizzie will be mad.” 

“Yeah, that’s all I’m getting out of this.” Somehow Penelope still manages to sound sarcastic, even in the middle of foreplay. “And can you not mention Lizzie Saltzman while you’re kissing me? 

Hope laughs a little as she kisses along Penelope’s collarbone, stopping to bite at the juncture at her neck, and the other woman whimpers. Hope groans at the sound, taking a moment to come back up and kiss Penelope hard.

“God, you’re hot.” Penelope mutters, tugging on Hope’s hair to encourage her to hurry up while Hope tries to figure out how to unclasp Penelope’s bra one handed with her shirt still on. 

“I’m already going to fuck you, you don’t have to compliment me.” 

“You really take all the romance out of it.” Penelope complains, even as she rolls her hips forward, searching for friction. 

“I’m not trying to be romantic.” Hope reminds her as she finally gets her hand under her bra, brushing her thumb over Penelope’s nipple. 

“Well good, because you’re not very good at- fuck!.” Penelope gasps, dropping her head forward to rest on Hope’s shoulder. “Whatever, oh my god, just fuck me already.” 

”I’m trying, if you would just-” A noise catches at the edge of Hope’s consciousness and she freezes. “Wait.” She pulls away from Penelope abruptly, ignoring Penelope’s whine at the loss. “Someone’s coming.” 

“I-” Penelope opens her eyes and blinks, unable to keep up with the sudden change in mood. “What?” 

Hope only has a moment to admire Penelope, tousled and panting, her lips slick with Hope’s spit, a bruise already forming on her neck, and then:

“ _ Invisique _ !” Hope hisses while she rubs at the lipstick on her neck. Penelope disappears just as Josie comes around the corner. 

“Oh, there you are. Landon was about to send out a search team.” 

“Ha!” Hope exhales. “Classic Landon!” 

Josie frowns, looking Hope over. “Are you okay? You’re all... flushed.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Hope tucks her hair back and smooths out her skirt, bringing her breathing back to normal. Her heart is still racing, blood pounding in her veins, still thrumming for Penelope’s touch. She inhales deeply, which is a mistake because she can still smell Penelope on her. “I... ran here.”

“What? From where?” 

“Outside. A wolf thing, you know.” Hope hides her grimace at her own words, knowing Penelope is laughing behind her. “Anyway! Let’s go.”

“Okay…” Josie narrows her eyes, glancing behind Hope and then back to Hope. “Are you sure everything is alright? You’ve been acting strange since you came back from break.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been like…” Hope shrugs as they walk. “A weird year, you know?” Her phone vibrates in her pocket and Hope discreetly checks it. 

**Penelope:** _You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?_

**Hope:** _Maybe now you’ll know better than to jump me when you know I have dinner plans. _

**Penelope:** _You’d really rather go to the dining hall with the Scooby gang than hang out with me? _

Penelope’s text is followed by a series of photos so explicit, Hope can feel her cheeks burn as she blushes and hastily pockets her phone before Josie gives her another weird look. She resolves to not text Penelope back, but halfway through dinner, Hope is stuck exchanging dismayed looks with her ex boyfriend as they all try to pretend they don’t notice Sebastian’s hand up Lizzie’s shirt, so she loses that resolve. 

**Hope** :  _ I can admit there are some benefits to spending time with you. _

** _Penelope_ ** _ : Meet in my room at 9? _

Hope doesn’t have to text back for them both to know Hope will be outside Penelope’s room at nine pm sharp. 

* * *

“Why does she keep  _ looking _ at you?”

“Hmm?” Hope is pretending to read so it doesn’t seem like she’s hanging on Lizzie’s every word. “Who?” 

“Cruella De Ville.” Lizzie says irritably, her nose scrunching up in disgust. At Hope’s raised eyebrow, she relents: “Penelope Park.” 

Hope doesn’t turn around, but the idea of Penelope watching her makes the back of her neck heat up, which is embarrassing, but not something she can control, apparently.

“She’s probably just looking for Josie.” 

Lizzie and Hope are sitting in the library, camped around a table, books spread around them. It’s their last semester at Salvatore, but for some reason their professors still seem determined to assign as much work as possible. Penelope and a gaggle of girls who aren’t important enough to be named are lounging across the library, despite the multiple warnings they’ve received for being too loud. 

Hope is pulled out of her rumination on trying to guess which of the girls is making Penelope laugh like that when Josie arrives. 

“Ugh, did you see?” Josie pulls out the chair next to Lizzie and sits down with a huff. 

“What?”

“Penelope. She must have a new fling because she’s got-” Josie flutters her fingers in a line along her throat to indicate, “-like six hickies. I could see them from across the classroom!”

Hope does not need to turn around to know what Josie’s talking about. She knows because it’s her own mouth that left those bruises.

“Ew.” Lizzie grimaces. “I didn’t want to know.” 

Underneath the table, Hope pulls out her phone to send a text. 

** _Hope: _ ** _ You couldn’t have put some cover up on or something?  _

There’s only a few seconds before she gets a reply. 

** _Penelope_ ** _ : As if you didn’t leave them that high so everyone would see? You’re not as sly as you think, Mikaelson. _

_ _

Hope ducks her head down so her hair falls in front of her face and obscures her blush from the twins. 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Lizzie is saying to Josie. 

“God, of course not.” Josie says in the most jealous tone possible. 

Hope clears her throat. “Have you talked to her lately?” 

Josie hesitates for a second before shaking her head. Lizzie pounces on it. 

“Oh my god, you have!” Lizzie leans forward over the table, lowering her voice. “Does Landon know?” 

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a big deal.” Josie bites her lips, fiddling with the papers in her hands. “We were partnered together in class last week. She was.. surprisingly tolerable.” A conflicted look crosses her face before disappearing as she shrugs. “But obviously, she’s back to her old ways.” Josie waves one hand in the general direction of Penelope and her posse. 

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway. Like I said, she’s a thing of the past.” 

Hope glances back down at her phone to type. 

** _Hope:_ ** _ I don’t know what you’re talking about. _

** _Penelope_ ** _ : So you don’t think I look good? _

Normally Hope wouldn’t bother replying to that, but at the table, the topic has turned to discussing Lizzie’s latest date with Sebastian, complete with Josie shooting her worried looks as if Hope is going to burst into tears over hearing about it- Hope gets what Penelope meant about the looks of pity, now- so she keeps her focus on her phone to tune them out. That’s been happening a lot lately; Hope is glad Josie and Lizzie are happy, but it would be nice to have a conversation with them that didn’t revolve around their relationships. 

** _Hope_ ** _ : I think if you’re fishing for a compliment, you’re going to have to do better than that. _

The temptation to turn and see Penelope’s reaction to her message is strong, but Hope’s willpower is stronger. She watches the typing bubble appear and disappear. 

**Penelope** :  _ The audacity you have, to pretend I’m not the hottest girl in this room right now. _

**Hope** :  _ That can’t be true, Lizzie is right here. _

Whether or not Hope actually thinks that’s true, she  _ knows _ it’ll make Penelope furious to hear that Hope thinks Lizzie is hotter than her. Sure enough, behind them, Hope hears the loud scrape of a chair being pushed back abruptly and the clamor of Penelope’s followers as she waves them off, walking off into the rows of books. 

Hope waits for as long as she dares, long enough for everyone to go back to their conversations, before she flashes her phone at the twins and says, 

“I’m going to go look for this book. Be right back!” 

“Nerd.” Lizzie says in a fond tone. 

Hope is already walking away. She weaves through the bookshelves at random, until: 

Penelope appears, pushing Hope back against the bookshelves, a few novels falling to the floor with a thump. 

“Are you seriously jealous right now?” Hope can’t keep the amusement out of her tone.

“I made you come like five times last night and you’re going to say that Lizzie Saltzman is hotter than me?? ME??” Penelope is glaring as she rapidly undoes the buttons of Hope’s shirt. Hope is very aware of the close proximity of their classmates, but she doesn’t stop her. 

“I don’t see how those two things correlate at all.” She gets out, which isn’t her best comeback, but it’s hard to concentrate when Penelope’s given up on her shirt and just dropped to her knees in front of Hope. “Oh my god.” 

Penelope drags her nails from Hope’s knee up under her skirt and Hope’s breath catches. 

“Penelope...” Hope tightens her hands in Penelope’s hair, torn between pushing her away or pulling her closer. It’s insane how fast Penelope can turn her on, even amidst the dusty bookshelves of the Salvatore library, with the Saltzman twins less than 100 feet away. Hope feels Penelope’s smirk against the inside of her thigh and takes a deep breath to get control of herself, then tugs Penelope up to kiss her. 

“We’re in public.” Hope tries to remind her when Penelope deepens the kiss, making it wet and filthy as her hands roam Hope’s body.

“So?” Penelope slips her hand under Hope’s skirt and strokes her through her underwear. 

“You’re sadistic.” Hope twists her hips to try to find pressure, but Penelope moves back each time. Penelope chuckles next to her ear, making a shiver roll through Hope’s body. “Only a little.” She slots her thigh between Hope’s legs and rolls her hips. Hope is 90% certain she’s just ripped Penelope’s shirt with how hard she’s holding on. 

“Park, oh my god-”

Hope is really about to say fuck it and let Penelope fuck her in the back of the Salvatore library when Penelope abruptly pulls away, retracting her hands. “Okay, see you later!” 

Hope’s mouth drops open, everything coming to a sudden halt. “What?!” 

“That’s what you get for saying Lizzie is hotter than me.” Penelope says with a shrug, and she turns to leave, barely concealing her smirk. 

“Um, no.” Hope grabs her hand and pulls Penelope back, flipping their positions so it’s Penelope pinned against the shelves. “You can’t just… do that!” 

“Oh I can’t?” Penelope looks awfully smug for someone who’s breathing is so heavy. “Why not?”

Instead of answering, Hope bites down at the spot at Penelope’s collarbone that she knows will set her off and Penelope whimpers, the fight going right out of her. And Hope might have more power than literally any other being on the planet, but it’s  _ this _ that makes her feel stronger than anything, makes her feel invincible. 

“Uh, ladies?”

They spring apart as if shocked, Penelope smacking her head on the shelf behind her and Hope slamming her elbow into a stack on the opposite side of the aisle.

It’s MG, standing stiffly at the entrance to the aisle, one hand clamped over his eyes. “Sorry to bother you, but the noise was… getting loud and I figured you don’t want to get caught. Also, the twins are looking for Hope.” 

Penelope is clearly entertained. “You don’t have to cover your eyes, MG, we’re dressed.” 

“Yeah, I know, I’m good, I’m good.” MG rotates awkwardly so his back is to them. “But forreal, you need to move this to another location. Bye!”

Hope’s finally recovered enough to form words, calling after MG. “Wait! This wasn’t… we weren’t…” 

“Oh, MG knows.” Penelope steps forward and nimbly starts redoing the buttons of Hope’s shirt.

“What! He knows?!”

Penelope brushes Hope’s anger off. “I had to talk about it with  _ somebody _ . Like you didn’t tell anyone?” 

Hope starts to protest but then remembers she technically told her aunt. 

“Fine. But no one else, okay?”

“Who else would I tell?” Penelope asks bluntly, and Hope realizes with a start that it’s true; there’s no one else for Penelope to confide in. She might be popular but the list of people she actually trusts is very small.

“Maybe we need to make more friends.” 

Penelope grins as they start weaving their way back towards the seating area. “Why would I need more friends when I have you?”

“We are  _ not _ friends.” 

“Oh, I know we’re not, babe.” 

They’ve reached the edge of the shelves, so Hope tugs Penelope back by the edge of her shirt and kisses away her stupid smirk. She pulls back, satisfied by Penelope’s thoroughly disheveled appearance. Hope runs her fingers over her lips to remove Penelope’s lip gloss, grinning as Penelope’s eyes track the movement. 

“I should go.” Hope says before she lets herself lean back in for another kiss. 

“If you get back from monster hunting early tonight, you know where to find me.” Penelope brushes her fingertips down Hope’s arm, making her shiver, and then steps out of the cover of the shelves, making her way back to her table. 

Hope waits thirty seconds before walking out as well, back to the world where they pretend they don’t know each other at all. 

* * *

How could she? 

It’s early evening and Hope is sitting in the common area, reading an actual book, not even something for Alaric or a class. It’s been such a normal day, a normal week. In some ways, that makes it worse. 

It’s just a normal night. And then Hope glances down at her phone and sees the date and realizes- it’s the anniversary of the day her mother died. 

The wave of emotion that hits her is paralyzing in its intensity. The shame, followed immediately by the guilt, hit her like a punch to the gut, forcing the breath from her lungs. She just  _ forgot _ , and suddenly she’s trying so hard to remember the sound of her mother’s voice and she  _ can’t _ . Her breath catches as she curls in on herself, the memories flooding her mind. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone asks, but Hope is already gone, running down the corridor faster than any human could. 

She barely gets back to her room, slamming the door shut and using one hand to magic the locks shut. Hope staggers to the corner of the room and closes her eyes as her breaths start to come as pants. 

“Fuck.” She leans back against the wall, pressing her knees to her chest, and tries to will herself to calm down. It’s worse with her eyes closed; she keeps seeing the scene play out over and over again. 

She can’t calm down. Hope’s breath starts to come faster and she slams her eyes shut again as the room goes blurry from tears. It’s just like last year at the Miss Mystic Falls dance- she can’t feel anything but the sheer panic in her veins, and she knows it’s illogical, she knows there isn’t even a good reason, not anymore, that there’s nothing she can do now, but that doesn’t mean anything when her own mind is frantic with dread. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, struggling to breathe, before, through the fog of terror and guilt and despair, she hears a voice.

“Hope?” 

Out of nowhere, Penelope drops to her knees in front of her; Hope has a brief flash of a memory from that night at the bar months ago that pierces the haze of panic. She wants to ask Penelope how the fuck she got into her room, but she can’t find any words. 

“Hope, you need to breathe.” Penelope’s voice sounds very far away. 

“I c- I can’t.” Hope stutters, trying to draw another heaving breath. The room spins dangerously and everything is too hot and too heavy and too painful.

“Yes, you can,” Penelope says, firm. She takes one of Hope’s shaking hands and presses it to her own chest. “Can you feel that? Just breathe with me, okay?” 

Hope leans forward, curling in on herself, her forehead hitting Penelope’s shoulder. “My fault. It was my fault. Fuck.” She can’t fucking breathe, the guilt fills up her chest and chokes her. 

“Shhh.” Penelope wraps her other arm around Hope’s shoulder and lets Hope press against her chest. “Just copy me, okay? Breathe in… Breathe out. Nice and easy.  _ Tardus pulsatio. _ ”

Hope chokes out another sob and shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut in hopes her tears will stop. She can feel Penelope’s spell slowing the frantic beat of her heart, but there’s nothing she can do about the panic in her mind. 

“You’re alright, baby. Just focus on me. Just breathe.” 

Penelope keeps repeating, and Hope does her best to try to pay attention to the rhythm of her voice, trying to match her tumultuous breaths to Penelope’s steady ones. She can’t tell how much time passes, but after a while the room comes back into focus, like she’s moved back into the normal flow of time. The waves of panic fade back enough that she can think clearly. 

“Shit.” Her voice is hoarse. “Sorry.” 

Hope pushes herself away from Penelope, dropping so she’s laying on the floor, trying to catch her breath. She is so, so tired. 

She hears Penelope flop down next to her. Their hands brush. “You good?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

“Well, this shirt is silk, so you’ll have to pay for the dry cleaning.” 

“Yeah. Sure.” As the last few minutes sink in, Hope feels her face flush. She’s normally very badass; why does Penelope keep seeing her at her worst? 

As if she can hear her thoughts, Penelope says, “It’s nice to know even the Great Hope Mikaelson has her low moments.” 

“I’m not that great.” 

Penelope rolls over so she’s propped up on one elbow, looking down at Hope. “Oh, don’t be self-deprecating. It’s much more fun when you fight back.” 

Hope rubs at her nose with the back of her hand. “Sor-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” 

Hope’s teeth clack together as she shuts her mouth. 

Penelope must see something in her expression because her tone softens a little. “I mean. It’s fine, really. I love to have something to hold over you, you know.” 

Hope rolls her eyes and shoves halfheartedly at Penelope’s elbow. “Shut up. How’d you get in here, anyway?” 

“Why must I constantly remind you how powerful I am?” 

Hope manages a small huff of incredulity. As the air settles, she is gripped by the sudden, irrational fear that Penelope will leave now. She can’t be here alone in this empty room tonight. She can’t. 

“Penelope-” Hope wants to ask her to stay but her throat tightens and she can’t force out the words. 

Penelope looks at her with that slight furrow in her brow she gets when she has to work for an answer and Hope wills her to understand without making her say it. It’s refreshing how Penelope challenges her, normally, but strung out and tear ridden and aching, Hope wishes that she would let her take the easy way out, just this once.

She must communicate something, because: 

“Would you mind if I stayed here tonight?” Penelope asks, in the most deliberately careless voice of all time. “Don’t want to be caught out after curfew and all that.” As if she’s ever cared about getting in trouble. 

“Sure,” Hope says back, in what she’s trying to make a casual tone. The relief that floods her veins is dizzying.  _ But it’s Penelope Park _ , the voice inside her mind points out. She’s never even let Penelope into her room. Hope doesn’t care though, not tonight. She just doesn’t want to be alone. 

Still shaken, Hope forces herself to stand and moves robotically to her dresser, passing Penelope a random pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Penelope even goes into the bathroom to change, forgoing the chance to make Hope blush. 

They dress in silence, and then Penelope goes automatically to the right side of the bed, further from the window. Normally Hope would at least make a comment about knowing which side of the bed she sleeps on or something, but she can’t find her voice. Instead, they crawl under the covers in silence. She can feel Penelope’s eyes on her, but neither says a word. 

Hope stares stiffly at the ceiling, letting the shame dig at her, wondering why she asked Penelope to stay at all. Then Penelope speaks: 

“Hope.” 

The night is very, very still.

“Come here,” she says quietly.

“No.” 

“Mikaelson.” 

“No.” 

There’s a shuffle of sheets and the mattress dips as Penelope rolls closer. She pokes at Hope’s calf with her toes.

“Go to sleep. And your feet are freezing.” Hope growls. 

“Hopeeeeee.” Penelope says in a singsong voice, her breath ghosting over the back of Hope’s neck. 

“Shut up, Penelope. Just shut up. Just-” Hope rolls over to yell at Penelope, to push her away, to do  _ something _ , but her voice catches on the last word and suddenly she’s crying instead, wrapping her hands in the extra material of Penelope’s shirt and letting herself fall into Penelope’s firm hold. 

Penelope curls instinctively around her, rubbing circles along Hope’s back and murmuring nonsensical words of comfort as Hope sobs. 

It’s impossible to describe the way her touch feels to Hope at this moment; She knows she’s being obvious, that the way she clutches at Penelope, desperate and aching, makes it clear how touch-starved she really is, but tonight Hope doesn’t care. Their bodies are pressed together, torsos slotted together, legs intertwined, Penelope cradling Hope in her arms. 

Eventually, Hope’s sobs peter off, but she doesn’t relinquish her hold on Penelope. She can’t. Not yet. 

Penelope hums softly, running her hands through Hope’s long hair. 

In a very un-Penelope move, Penelope doesn’t ask what happened. She just holds Hope and waits, like she knows the answer will come eventually. 

Hope keeps her face hidden when she finally finds her voice. “I forgot. Today was the day my mom- my mom died. And I just forgot and when I realized.” Hope inhales shakily, scrunching her eyes shut as more tears threaten to fall. “I don’t know. It felt like something inside me broke.” 

She hates feeling weak, hates this feeling, hates to fall apart. Hates when she has to put herself back together. 

“My mom and dad both died for me… Sometimes I think they died for nothing.”

A truth she’s always believed but never spoken aloud. Suddenly it’s all spilling out of her mouth before Hope can stop herself: “I’m not even supposed to exist. And now that I do exist, I always have to be worried that I might be evil, that I might be like my father, who everyone else believes is evil, but I don’t, because he’s my  _ father _ . And he can’t rest until I find peace, but I don’t even know if I’ll ever find that. Sometimes the pain is so much, it’s so heavy, it’s unbearable. I don’t know if I can ever atone for his sins and for my existence. And I can’t rely on anyone else because everyone I care about dies or leaves and I shouldn’t need anyone else anyway because I’m the Tribrid but-” Hope chokes on a sob she’s holding back, and her final sentences comes out in a whisper: “I don’t know if I can do it. Sometimes it’s all too much.” 

There’s a pause, and then just before Hope lets herself sink back down into the ocean of suffering, Penelope speaks:

“So, is now a good time to tell you why you’re wrong or….?”

Hope chokes on a laugh, her face wet with tears and shoves at Penelope with little force. “Don’t be a bitch.” 

“I’m serious!” Penelope shifts onto one elbow so she can look Hope in the eyes, instead of Hope hiding in her shirt, which seems unfair. She’s not smiling; her eyes are dark and serious and almost… angry, for a reason Hope can’t fathom. “Hope, do I really have to be the one to tell you how good you are?”

“Penelope, don’t-”

“No, shut up, I’m talking now.” Penelope cuts her off, firm and so surprising that Hope  _ does  _ shut up. “Yes, you’re strong and a hero and all that and of course you can do it. But you’re more than that, Hope. You’re  _ a person _ , beyond being Klaus Mikaelson’s daughter and the Tribrid and all that shit. You’re allowed to have feelings and sometimes those feelings can be bad, it doesn’t make you a bad person, okay? You’re not evil, you could never be evil, because you have so much empathy and goodness in you that it’s fucking impossible. And you can rely on other people, because there’s so many people who care about you, who want to help you if you would just let them, if you would look up from this self loathing that you’ve trapped yourself in and see that you deserve to be happy and there are people who want to help you find that happiness! You’ve been through  _ so much _ , Hope. You deserve all the care and happiness in the world. So like, get it through your thick Tribrid skull- you deserve to be happy, you deserve a long life, and you don’t have to do it all alone!” 

Penelope is panting by the end of her rant, her eyes blazing. She looks expectantly at Hope for a response. 

Hope blinks. “How long have you been preparing that speech?”

Penelope groans, flopping back onto the pillows and taking Hope with her. “God, like for months! I thought I was never going to get to say it.” 

Hope huffs out a half laugh. “Well, I admire the effort.” She’s embarrassed to discover there're tears in her eyes again, her chest tight with a warm feeling that she refuses to acknowledge, battling against the despair. 

“Hope.” Penelope’s voice doesn’t soften, not really, but it’s steady and sure. “Do I ever say anything I don’t mean?” 

Hope shrugs, petulant. “No.” 

“I know you don’t believe me, that’s fine. I’ll just keep telling you over and over. You know how much I love to hear myself talk.” 

“Ha.” She is smiling a little though. “Well that’s true, at least.” 

Penelope tightens her grip on Hope and rolls them so they’re pressed closer together. “The sooner you accept I’m always right, the easier life gets.”

“I hate you.” Hope says, trying to make her voice sound hard, trying to ignore the overwhelming feelings that are caught in her throat, the way Penelope’s words are pushing through the cracks of her very strong mental walls, the fierce fight in her mind between the deep pain of living and the bursts of the joy, the soothing balm of comfort that Penelope’s words create, if Hope allows them. 

“Mhm.” The sound rumbles through Penelope’s chest, Hope pressed against her. “I know.” 

“Penelope,” she whispers, and her voice almost breaks. “Sometimes it hurts so much. It just hurts.” There’s no way to fully articulate her pain, so she doesn’t bother. 

“I know.” Penelope presses a kiss to her forehead, light as air. “I know, Hope. I’m sorry.”

They lay there like that for a long time, Hope listening to the rise and fall of Penelope’s breaths. There’s nothing Penelope can say or do to make the pain go away, but maybe it’s enough that Penelope is  _ there _ , that Hope doesn’t have to go through it alone. 

Eventually Hope falls asleep.

-

_ “Hope, wake up. Wake up, my littlest wolf.”  _

_ Hope knows that voice. She opens her eyes slowly, unwilling to believe it.  _

_ “There’s my girl.” Klaus smiles at her, smoothing back her hair. “Now, we must hurry.” _

_ “Dad?” Hope’s voice is quiet, childlike. _

_ “Baby girl, we have to go.”  _

_ Hope blinks and there’s her mother behind Klaus, looking at her fondly. _

_ “Mom? Where are we going?” Hope sits up, looking around. “Where are we?”  _

_ “There’s no time. We need to go.” Klaus takes Hayley’s hand and Hope blinks and they’re gone, the door swinging behind them.  _

_ “Wait!” Hope pushes off the bed, running through the doorway. “What the…”  _

_ She’s in the Salvatore library. It’s eerie quiet, a sense of foreboding in the air that sticks to Hope’s skin like a shadow. _

_ “Mom? Dad?”  _

_ Her voice echoes off of the empty furniture, the silence overwhelming. In front of her, Hope can see the door she needs to go through, but she doesn’t want to. Every fiber of her being tells her not to look, not to go there. But she takes an unwilling step towards the doorway, one foot after another, even as the sense of unease increases until Hope is nauseous, sick with dread.  _

_ “Hope, help! Help!”  _

_ She knows that voice too. Hope pushes through the horrible fear, finishing the distance between her and the door, and she steps through- _

_ “Oh god.” Hope covers her mouth to choke back a sob. “No.”  _

_ She turns away, dropping on both knees to spit bile on the floor, the scene already burned into her memory.  _

_ Landon and MG and the rest of the Salvatore students. Alaric. Josie.  Lizzie . Their bodies spread out on the floor. And the blood. So much blood.  _

_ And it’s her fault.  _

_ “It’s your fault.” Klaus’s voice echoes through the room.  _

_ “How could you let this happen?” Hayley asks, and the guilt is so heavy, Hope is drowning in it.  _

_ “I’m sorry!” She gasps out, the room blurring before her eyes, and then she’s moving again, her footsteps echoing as she runs away from her slain friends.  _

_ “Stop!” Hope screams to whoever is doing this, her legs continuing forward without her permission. “PLEASE!” _

_ The hallway goes on and on, the voices of her parents, of Alaric and Josie and Lizzie and everyone else rising in volume as they yell, as they tell her over and over again what she’s done, how she’s hurt them, the taunts overlapping as she stumbles on. Just when she thinks she can go no further, that she has to give up, Hope turns around a corner and sees the last body.  _

_ Whoever it is, their face is turned away, the corpse limp on the floor. Hope feels the bile rise again in her throat, the terror and trepidation singing in her blood.  _

_ She doesn’t want to see. She doesn’t want to know who else she’s killed, who else’s blood she has on her hands. But there is nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. She has to. _

_ Hope can’t see her face. She recognizes this person, she knows that dark hair, those delicate hands, but she has to see her face, she has to know. So Hope reaches out one shaking hand and turns over the body to see who it is-  _

Hope wakes with a start, a silent scream on her lips. 

She jolts up, breathing hard, trying to orient herself and figure out what’s real- it always takes her a second. Her heart is pounding again, erratic and fast, her skin damp with sweat, her mind in overdrive. Hope looks down and finds one hand digging her nails into her own thigh and the other- 

_ Fuck.  _

-the other is fisted in Penelope Park’s shirt. That’s when Hope remembers she didn’t go to bed alone. 

Penelope’s eyes are wide, her body still beneath Hope’s grip. 

This is why she’s never let Penelope in her room before. All the thoughts in Hope’s head freeze like ice and she releases Penelope immediately, unsure if she’s already hurt her. Hope tries to take a deep breath, but it catches in her throat, hyperventilating imminent.

“Wait! Fuck, wait.” Penelope sits up and looks Hope in the eye, urgency in her tone. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Everyone is safe.” She puts one hand on Hope’s arm, probably to comfort her, but it only sets Hope off. 

“Don’t touch me!” She shoves Penelope away, staggering out of the bed and putting more distance between them. 

“Okay.” Penelope raises both hands in the air, demonstrating her innocence, and stands up slowly. “I’m not. Everything is alright, Hope. You’re safe.” She edges her way across the room. “You’re not going to hurt me, alright? No one is hurt.”

Hope shakes her head furiously, her eyes flashing yellow as she struggles to keep control.

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer!” 

Every time she blinks she can see their bodies, and she’s trembling, shaking with the effort it’s taking not to scream, not to release all the pain she’s holding. With a blast of uncontrolled magic, everything in the room levitates off the floor as Hope curls her hands into fists, vibrating with pain and power and fear. 

“Hope, look at me! Look at me.” Penelope’s voice, sharp, cuts through the haze, and Hope drags her eyes to meet Penelope’s own, afraid of what she might see. But there’s no fear there, just the cool confidence that Penelope always projects. 

“Hope. Everyone is safe. No one is hurt. You haven’t done anything wrong. Everything is okay.” 

Around them, all the items stay suspended, like the audience holding their breath. Penelope’s eyes never waver from Hope’s. 

“Are you listening, Hope? Everyone is safe, I promise you. Everyone is okay. We could go to Lizzie’s room right now and have her bitch at us for waking her up, if you want.” Penelope gives her a half grin. “I mean, you know, personally I think, the less time spent around Lizzie, the better, but we can if you want. Cause she’s okay. And so are Alaric and Josie and Landon and everybody else. Everyone is okay. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“Everyone is okay.” Hope repeats slowly, keeping her eyes on Penelope, letting reality sink back in. With effort, she uncurls her fists and all her belongings fall to the floor with a thump, the hum of magic in the air fading out. 

“Yeah.” Penelope nods, holding eye contact. She shrugs, the casual gesture so out of place amid the tension in the air. “Well, I mean, obviously like,  _ mentally, _ things aren’t at a hundred percent, but overall-”

“Shut up.” Hope says weakly, her posture going slack, and then she takes the two steps forward and drops limply into Penelope’s arms. 

“Oof.” Penelope staggers back so they can both slump onto the bed, keeping her arms around Hope. “One of these days we’re going to have to talk about getting you a therapist. And not just like, the school counselor that your father-figure is trying to date.” 

“We are not talking about this. We’re not addressing this at all. Tomorrow we are pretending this never happened.” Hope is trying to sound stern but it’s not very effective when she’s mumbling against Penelope’s shoulder as she clings to her. 

“Yes, god forbid we address our breakdowns in the light of day.” Penelope drawls, but she is pliant as Hope pushes her further back on the bed so that Hope can collapse on top of her. Penelope slides her hands under Hope’s shirt and rubs her palms soothingly up and down her back as they lay quietly, Hope’s breathing gradually returning to normal. 

“I don’t want to go back to sleep.” Hope says at last, unwillingly to tell Penelope she’s afraid of what she might see when she closes her eyes. 

“I’m sure I can think of something to do.” Penelope doesn’t even make the sentence sound like an innuendo. “Are you good here for a second if I run back to my room?”

It makes Hope feel extremely pathetic that Penelope even has to ask. “Yeah, of course.” She says, too defensively. Penelope lets it go. 

“I’ll be right back.” She scoots off the bed and disappears. 

Hope exhales hard and sits up, resting her forehead on her knees and pressing her palms into her eyes until she sees static. 

“I leave for two seconds and she starts wallowing again.” 

Hope looks up. Penelope has reappeared with one of the many mysterious boxes from her room that no one’s allowed to touch.

“What’s that?” Her voice is still hoarse. 

Penelope settles on the bed so their legs are pressed together. “I just want to be clear- I am not advocating for drug use to avoid facing your problems. But in this one instance..” She shrugs, pulling out a jar from the box. 

“I feel like we’re taking the Stoner!Penelope headcanon a little far.” 

Penelope scoffs as she hands the grinder to Hope. “I’m teaching you a valuable skill, Mikaelson. This is the kinda thing you’d learn in college, so I’m giving you a headstart.” 

“If you’re supposed to learn this in college, how did you learn? Who taught you how to do this?”

Penelope hesitates for a moment before she finishes unpacking the box. “An ex girlfriend.”

“Why’d you break up?”

“Oh no, tonight is about your tragic backstory, not mine.” Penelope shakes a small amount of marijuana into the grinder in Hope’s hands, gesturing for her to turn it. 

Hope heaves her most dramatic sigh. “Please? Maybe it would help distract me..”

Penelope laughs, nodding as if impressed. “Using my own techniques against me... what a world.” 

Hope flutters her eyelashes as best she can, given that she’s still tear stained and shaky. 

“Nice try. Pay attention.” Penelope fits the filter to one end of the paper and holds it up for Hope. “Now add what we just ground.” 

Hope does so, and then Penelope passes it over to her to roll. 

“What, you’re not going to take my hand to try to show me how?” 

“I’d do that if I needed an excuse to touch you. But I don’t need an excuse.” Penelope doesn’t even say it in a cocky way, just plainly, a fact. 

And what’s worse is, she’s  _ right _ . Hope craves her touch, aches for the sense of normalcy that Penelope provides. Penelope’s touch grounds her, especially tonight of all nights, when she feels so tired she could collapse. But Hope keeps these thoughts to herself, watching as Penelope packs up the box, keeping a steady stream of conversation the whole time, talking about innate things, dumb ideas MG has had while high, the first time she smoked and lit her bedspread on fire, the way vaping ‘takes all the allure out of it’. Watches the shadows flicker across Penelope’s face as she strikes the lighter, the flame bright, illuminating Penelope. 

And Hope realizes she’s grateful, that she’s so fucking glad that Penelope is there, and not just because she doesn’t want to be alone, but because  _ she wants to be with Penelope _ . 

And that should scare Hope, and in the morning it probably will, but tonight she’s too tired to run, so she lets herself be warmed by Penelope’s presence, allows herself to soak up the calm aura that Penelope exudes. 

Penelope touches her face absently. “What? Why are you staring?”

Instead of answering, Hope brings one hand up to Penelope’s cheek, cradling her face, and leans forward to kiss her as softly as she can. It’s the gentlest kiss they’ve ever shared; Hope is sure Penelope can taste her tears on her lips. 

When she pulls back, Hope has to look away because the sheer emotion, the  _ tenderness _ in Penelope’s eyes knocks the breath from her lungs. 

“What was that for?” Penelope whispers, and Hope doesn’t have an answer that won’t make her cry. Instead, she tucks herself against Penelope’s shoulder once more and inhales deeply, surrounding herself with the scent of Penelope and detergent and whatever spell Penelope’s put on the weed to make it smell comforting instead of terrible. 

“Tell me a story?” Hope kind of hates how vulnerable her voice sounds, but it’s too late to take it back.

“I thought you’d never ask!” Penelope settles back against the pillows, joint in one hand, the other hand stroking Hope’s hair again. “Once upon a time, there was a wolf who lived in a majestic forest, all by herself,”

“Is this going to be full of clichés?” Hope murmurs.

Penelope flicks the back of her head. “Hush. Which one of us is telling the story?” 

“Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“That’s what I thought.” Penelope clears her throat theatrically. “As I was saying, once upon a time there was a wolf who lived in a majestic forest all by herself. Until one day, along came a princess…”

They stay up until the sun starts to rise, until Hope can’t keep her eyes from closing, her head against Penelope’s chest. 

Hope falls asleep and she doesn’t dream at all.

* * *

There is some intangible change after that night; some unspoken shift in the dynamics at play. 

When Hope wakes up the next morning, the world feels slightly different, a tilt almost unnoticeable. Almost. She’s alone, the scent of Penelope’s perfume still on her sheets. She takes a moment to breathe, to remember everything that happened yesterday. She’s still worn, and Hope’s certain her eyes are puffy from all the crying, but the dark, unbearable sadness of yesterday has faded. She sits up.

Penelope is lounging in her desk chair, feet propped on the desk, watching a video on her phone. She taps the screen to pause it when she senses Hope’s gaze on her. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” Hope’s voice is raspy with sleep. She props herself up on her elbows and decides flippancy is her best defense. “No breakfast in bed?” 

“If  _ you _ want to bring _ me _ breakfast, go ahead.” Penelope tosses her phone to the side and trapezes her way to the bed, crawling her way up. She pauses when their bodies align, holding herself above Hope. 

“Can I kiss you or do you need space to be angsty?”

Hope can’t help but smile up at her. “Isn’t it a little late to ask?” Her eyes flick down to their interlocked bodies. 

“Hey, I was over there giving you space when you woke up,” Penelope tilts her head toward the desk to indicate, “even though we both know just-woke-up-Hope is the cutest Hope.” 

“Cutest?” Hope scrunches her nose in disagreement. “I’m not cute.”

“Oh right, you’re very intimidating, Hope Mikaelson. The most intimidating. Can I kiss you now?” 

Hope nods her head in acquiescence, her lips just starting to curve into a smile when Penelope’s lips meet them. 

They kiss for a few moments, just light brushes of their lips, before Penelope pulls back. “Good morning.”

“You said that already.” Hope points out, mostly to distract from the flush that is spreading across her cheeks at Penelope’s adoring gaze. 

Penelope snorts. “Whatever.” She falls off to the side, settling on the bed so just their knees are touching, a reminder that she’s there. “Have you done the transfiguration homework yet?” 

The rest of the day passes like that, sheltered in the easy bubble of Hope’s room. The late afternoon light is filtering in through the window when Penelope starts shifting around like she has something to say. Hope notes what page she’s on to come back to later and looks up. 

“Not that it’s a big deal. But if you ever want like…” Penelope drums her nails along the spine of her book, “help finding a therapist or whatever..”

The calm atmosphere disappears in a flash. Hope can feel her metaphorical hackles rise. “I don’t need a therapist, Penelope. If this is because of last night-“

Sometimes, it really is inconvenient that Penelope is always ready for a fight. She leans forward, undaunted by the warning in Hope’s tone. “You shouldn’t have to feel like shit all the time, you know? You don’t have to suffer.” 

“Bold words, coming from the emotion-repressor-of-the-year.” Hope shoots back. “A little hypocritical of you to say  _ I  _ need therapy, don’t you think?”

“Fine, I’ll go to therapy too.” Penelope remains unperturbed. “We’ll all go to fucking therapy.”

“Why? Why does it matter to you?” Hope asks, and the fury in her voice masks her fear of the real answer. “If it’s because you have to keep helping me when I’m down, I didn’t  _ ask _ you to do that. If it bothers you-”

“Hope.” Penelope cuts her off. “Don’t start with that. You know that’s not what I’m saying. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t want you to be unhappy. I care about your well being, okay?”

And that, that is where Hope draws the line. “Look.” Hope snaps, and then she takes a deep breath. “Look.” 

Penelope blinks. “I’m looking.” 

“No, just-“ Hope waves a hand angrily in Penelope’s direction. “Whatever like,  _ play _ this is, whatever  _ scheme _ or reason that you keep pretending to be so understanding, I don’t want any part of it, okay?! I don’t want to be another person you’ve strung along. I know you don’t actually care and I know you don’t actually want to help. So stop pretending that you’re okay with all my shit and like, acting understanding and being perfect and whatever. Just  _ stop _ .” 

Hope is breathing hard by the end of her rant, looking stonily at a spot to the left of Penelope’s head and waiting for Penelope to snap back or something.

Instead Penelope sighs, leaning back on the bed and folding her hands like a principal confronting a troublesome student. “Well, you kind of put me in a tough position here, Mikaelson.”

Hope looks at her and waits. 

“If I do stop, then aren’t I still putting up with your shit, because I’m doing what you asked? But if I don’t stop, then I’m not putting up with your shit, but then that means I  _ am _ doing what you asked, which would then mean I’m putting up with you. So you’ve got me in a no-win situation, you know.” Penelope shrugs. “Which doesn’t seem very fair.”

“Oh my god.” 

She can’t believe Penelope always says the most ridiculous, perfect things. 

Hope looks away again because she’s afraid if she doesn’t, she’ll cross the space between them and  _ kiss _ Penelope, and not in a overly sexual way, not a kiss that leads to sex, but kiss her just to  _ kiss her, _ just to convey the depth of her feelings without saying them aloud because she cannot put them into words and Hope absolutely can’t do that, so instead she says: 

“Fine. But when you get killed in the middle of some long-standing Mikaelson feud just for hanging out with me, I’m not going to feel bad. Just so we’re clear.” 

“Okay, well we both know that’s total bullshit,” Penelope says easily, “but even if it wasn’t, don’t you think I’ve already planned for that actuality, with all my  _ ploys _ and  _ schemes _ that I’m always doing?” Penelope's eyes are twinkling in a way that’s making Hope sort of nauseous, but in a good way, if nausea can be a good thing and oh my god Hope is going completely insane. 

“I’m just going to use Lizzie as bait and escape while they’re getting her, obviously.”

“That’s  _ not _ funny.” Hope says, but she can feel herself biting back a smile, so she just scoffs and goes back to her homework, pretending she’s not watching out of the corner of her eye as Penelope smiles and smiles and smiles. 

* * *

At the very end of January, the temperature rises above 50 degrees for one blessed day, so the students decide to play soccer.

Penelope heaves a dramatic sigh as she surveys the field, hands on her hips. “Girls vs boys? Have we not moved beyond such imaginary binary categories?”

“You don’t have to be here. No one invited you at all.” Lizzie retorts sourly as she knots her jersey on one side. 

“I would never miss the chance to see you lose,” Penelope replies with a smarmy smile. Lizzie scoffs and walks down the field to confer with Alyssa.

Hope squints off into the distance so that it doesn’t look like she’s speaking to Penelope. “Do you have to antagonize her?” 

“Hey, I’ve dialed it wayyy back. Plus, she broke your heart. Really, I’m doing this for you.” 

“Your generosity and selflessness knows no bounds.” Hope says dryly, turning when she hears Lizzie call her name. 

“Hope, come on! We need to strategize!” 

Penelope makes a little whipping motion with one hand, complete with side effects. “Better not keep her waiting.” 

Hope risks making eye contact for a quick second. “Don’t cause any trouble, okay?” 

“Trouble? Me? I would never!”

It’s the least convincing thing Hope’s ever heard, so she just rolls her eyes and jogs over to the huddle, tossing her water bottle to the side. 

The teams are MG, Kaleb, Landon, Rafael, and Jed versus Hope, Lizzie, Josie, Alyssa, and Kym, with all the remaining positions filled by background characters. 

Penelope remains perched on one of the benches on the sidelines, one of several classmates who came to watch the game. It’s not really fair to group Penelope with them though, in Hope’s opinion, not when Penelope stands out in any crowd, the red rose in a field of dandelions. Hope doesn’t know when her brain started thinking in all these horrible dreamy metaphors, but she prays it stops soon. Luckily she has the game to distract her. 

The whistle blows and the game starts off normal enough, but something is slightly off. They’re all having a good time, laughing, joking with each other. It’s more fun because the teams are strangely evenly matched, even though the boys’ supernatural genes should be giving them an advantage. 

The circumstances seem to be tipped in the girls’ favor- Jed trips over Lizzie’s foot, Kym manages to stop a ball that should’ve been just out of reach, Alyssa’s kick goes farther than expected. Hope’s not complaining though; she can feel Penelope’s eyes on her, the heat of her gaze, so she’s busy trying to act like she doesn’t care. 

The whistle blows for half time and everyone is high fiving and laughing, except for Josie, who immediately whirls to face Penelope in the stands. 

“You!” Josie points at Penelope as she storms over. “You’re using magic. You’re cheating!”

Penelope raises one eyebrow. “Why would I do that? My only friend on the teams is MG and the boys are losing.”

“I don’t know! But I can tell! Someone is cheating!”

“So it must be me?” Penelope presses her hand to her chest in a dramatic gesture that Hope is very familiar with. “Oh Josette, always with the accusations.” 

Lizzie puts one hand on Josie’s arm. “Forget her, Jos, she’s not worth it.” 

“Everyone is having a good time.” Penelope points out. “So what if someone is evening the playing field?” 

“Penelope. Are you cheating, yes or no?” 

Penelope sighs a long suffering sigh. “Can’t a girl have a little fun around here? It’s a soccer game, not the end of the world.”

“It’s still wrong!” Josie protests. 

“Maybe the world isn’t as black and white as you think it is!” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think! Cheating is wrong.” 

Penelope stretches her arms out wide like a preacher at the pulpit. “I’m trying to make a grander point here, beyond soccer.” They all give her a blank look, because no one enjoys the narrator trying to force a point home in the middle of the narrative. “Oh, the burden of being the morally-grey character, stuck with all of you righteous good guys.”

“It’s truly so tough to be you.” Hope says dryly, and Lizzie and Josie both give her a weird look, which reminds Hope she’s supposed to be pretending that she doesn’t know Penelope. 

“Thank you for your support, Mikaelson.” Penelope grins wide and Hope sighs. 

“I wasn’t- I meant… okay,” Hope looks at the twins. “You guys go plan for the second half. I’ll talk to her.” 

“Fine.” Lizzie gives Penelope a poisonous look. “Feel free to send her back to whatever cave she crawled out of.”

“Oh Lizzie, you say the sweetest things.” Penelope swoons backwards. “No wonder you were able to seduce that brooding serial killer over there.” She inclines her head towards Sebastian across the field. “It’s not like you were just the first woman he’d seen in five hundred years- oh wait…”

Josie drags Lizzie away before she can resort to physical violence. 

Hope turns to Penelope. “You’re terrible.” 

“That’s not what you were saying Tuesday night.” Penelope pretends to examine her nails, smirking. 

Hope doesn’t smack Penelope on the arm, but only because she knows Josie and Lizzie are watching. 

Actually, Josie won’t stop glaring daggers at Hope from the team huddle. 

“I think Josie is going to murder me for talking to you.” Hope says, because she doesn’t really have a retort for the other thing, covering her mouth with her water bottle so no one else can see what she’s saying. 

“Please.” Penelope scoffs. “She doesn’t care about me at all.” But Hope sees her eyes dart to look at Josie again and again. Unwilling to examine why that makes her feel unsettled now, Hope changes the subject. 

“Well, I’m not going to protect you when Sebastian tries to murder you for insulting Lizzie.” 

Penelope peers around Hope theatrically to look at the brooding vampire, who is in fact leaning against a tree and glaring as hard at Penelope as Josie has been at Hope. 

“Ouch. That hurts, Mikaelson. You wouldn’t avenge me?” They’re close enough that Penelope is able to reach up and toy with the elastic string of Hope’s waist band. 

“Are you a damsel in distress now? Surely you can hold your own against one measly vampire, since you’re ‘so powerful’.” Hope bats her hand away.

“It’s not about whether or not I  _ could _ .” Penelope says it like it’s obvious. “It’s about my honor! Defend me!” 

“What am I, your knight in shining armor?”

“Don’t be absurd. Gray isn’t your color.” 

“Mikaelson! Let’s go!” The rest of the team is huddled by midfield and Hope is out of excuses for speaking to Penelope. 

“Stop cheating. I mean it.” Hope points at Penelope and uses her sternest voice so the twins can overhear.

“Yes ma’am.” Penelope says, mock seriously, and Hope starts toward the field when Penelope calls out once more. 

“Hope?”

Hope turns back, jogging in place while she tightens her ponytail. 

“I like winners.” Penelope’s voice is slanted low, a secret only Hope can hear. 

Hope tilts her head. Penelope looks angelic in the afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you win this game, I’m gonna eat you out for like an hour.” 

Hope chokes on air while Penelope leans back on the bench and laughs. 

“Go team!” She calls as Hope jogs back over to the huddle. 

Hope’s never been more invested in a sports game in her entire life. 

They win 4-3. 

Hope has bruises on the inside of her thighs for days afterwards, and they’re not from the game. 

* * *

“Read 'em and weep.” 

Penelope lays out her cards one by one. Another full house.

“Okay, you have GOT to be cheating.” Hope tosses her cards down in defeat and eyes Penelope’s cards darkly.

“You already put a ward on the room, you’d know if I was cheating.” Penelope points out, which is unfortunately true. “Now take off your bra or your underwear. Your choice.” 

“I hate you,” Hope mutters, glaring at Penelope while she reaches back and undoes the clasp of her bra before flinging it to the side. 

Penelope’s smile widens. “I told you, I always win. Plus it’s not my fault your entire wardrobe is just jeans and low cut blouses.”

Hope’s mouth drops open. “What! My entire wardrobe is not…”

Penelope raises an eyebrow and Hope huffs. 

“Whatever. I own jackets too. And I would’ve worn layers if I had known this was what we were doing tonight.” 

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Penelope gathers up the cards to shuffle. She’s still got one sock, her underwear, her bra, and both earrings, so Hope’s not liking her own chances for a victory here. 

“Let me shuffle this time.” She holds out her hand for the deck. “And my eyes are up here.” Hope’s not going to admit the little thrill it gives her, to see Penelope’s jaw slacken as her eyes roam Hope’s body. 

Penelope clears her throat and passes over the cards without further protest, so Hope is magnanimous enough not to mention the flush across her cheeks. 

That doesn’t mean she’s going to play nice, though. 

Hope shifts closer as she deals, leaning forward farther than strictly necessary, using her elbows to emphasize. 

Penelope narrows her eyes, glancing up between Hope and her cards. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Hope asks, feigning innocence as she splays one hand along her collarbones. 

“You’re supposed to be the protagonist, Hope. This is underhanded behavior!” 

“I don’t know  _ what  _ you’re talking about.” Hope bites her lip, scraping her teeth across her lower lip as slow as she can manage, then following with her tongue. 

“This won’t work.” Penelope warns. 

Hope merely shrugs, dealing the fourth community card and then using her free hand to drag her nails down the center of her chest, between her breasts and down her stomach. She shivers involuntarily. When she looks up, Penelope’s eyes are dark and heated. 

“It’s your move, Pen.” Hope barely keeps the smugness out of her voice. 

Penelope’s eyes dart back down to her cards. “You know I know that you’re only doing this because you’re about to lose. So I know that you must have a bad hand.” 

“So call my bluff, then.” Hope shrugs again, running one hand through her hair in what she’s hoping is a “sexy” way.

“You look like you forgot your glasses. Are you trying to smolder or what?” Penelope’s tone is in sharp contrast to her flushed expression. 

Hope licks her lips again. “Just-”

The rest of her sentence is cut off when Penelope tosses her cards to the side and pulls herself into Hope’s lap to kiss her hard. Hope would laugh if she could catch her breath. Instead she picks Penelope up, her legs wrapped around Hope’s waist, and carries her to the bed. 

“God, the Tribrid strength is so hot.” Penelope starts kissing down Hope’s neck. 

“Does this mean-” Hope gasps, struggling to stay unaffected, “that I won?”

“Absolutely not.” Penelope mutters, busy sucking a bruise into Hope’s breast. “If anything, we go by whoever was winning before we got sidetracked, so it would still be me. And also-”

“You talk way too fucking much.” Hope breathes out, trying to push Penelope’s head further down. 

Penelope scoffs. “I’m about to go down on you, you could be a little more polite.” 

“Maybe if you weren’t taking so damn long, I would be!” 

Penelope chuckles as she mouths her way down Hope’s stomach and then back up. Hope slides her hands down the smooth plane of Penelope’s back; sometimes it feels like she’ll never have enough time to touch all that skin, to memorize every inch of Penelope’s body. 

Hope is about to fully stop thinking and just give into the feelings when her fucking phone rings.

“Fuck.” She exclaims, her eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. 

“Don’t answer it,” Penelope suggests, punctuating her sentence by rolling Hope’s nipple between two fingers, which makes her hiss. 

“I have to,” Hope gasps out regretfully, writhing under Penelope’s attention. She stretches one hand toward the desk as far as she can, pulling her phone to her with magic, unwillingly to make Penelope get off of her just yet. 

“Hel-” Penelope closes her lips around Hope’s other nipple as she makes her way down her body and Hope clears her throat to avoid moaning. “Hello?” 

“Hope, it’s Alaric. Can you come by my office?” 

“Um, now?” 

Penelope bites at her hip bone and Hope bucks her hips up, held down by Penelope’s firm grip. The friction is enough to make her breath catch.

“Yes, now. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” Penelope starts to kiss her way up the inside of Hope’s thigh and Hope slams her head back against the pillows, struggling to stay silent. “What’s wrong?” 

“I think Malivore is a greater issue than we realized.” 

“Oh, do you?” Hope digs her heels into Penelope’s back, urging her to stop or maybe to hurry up. 

“Yes. It was a bit of a continuity error for us to just ignore everything that happened last year. Malivore and its monsters still need to be dealt with.”

Then Penelope licks up to her clit and Hope bites down on her lip so hard she draws blood. “I-”

“Seriously Hope, is everything alright?” 

“Can I- fuck, can I call you back?” 

“Sure…” Alaric sounds confused, but she doesn’t care. 

“Kay, BYE!” Hope chucks her phone off into the void and brings both hands down to clutch at the sheets. “Holy fuck, Penelope. You’re evil.” 

“Hmm.” Penelope hums and Hope feels the vibrations from where Penelope’s lips are pressed to the inside of her thigh. “You were very professional. Very believable. I’m sure he didn’t notice a thing.” 

“Shut up!” Hope hisses, and she hauls Penelope up for a kiss. 

“How long do you have?” Penelope murmurs when they break apart for air. 

“Like ten minutes.” 

Penelope smiles, all teeth. “I can work with that.” 

* * *

_ When Hope opens her eyes, she’s in a bar.  _

_ That, in itself, is no cause for alarm, but she’s not sure how she got here or where she is, so that’s troubling. Around her, people mill about, music pulsing a steady beat in the background.  _

_ She walks up to an empty space at the bar and flags down the bartender.  _

_ “Hi, I’m sorry, but can you tell me where-” _

_ The bartender turns around and, of course, It’s Penelope.  _

_ Hope sighs. “Great. Park, what’s going on?” _

_ “You’re dreaming,” she says, like it’s obvious.  _

_ “I think you mean I’m having a nightmare. If I was dreaming, you wouldn’t be here.”  _

_ Penelope winks at her, drying her hands off on a towel and stepping around to Hope’s side of the bar. The music pulses a little faster in tune with Hope’s heartbeat. “Let’s not kid ourselves, sweetheart.”  _

_ Hope rolls her eyes. Ignoring that, Penelope offers her one hand and Hope looks at it with suspicion.  _

_ “What?” _

_ “Dance with me.”  _

_ “Dance. With you.” _

_ “We’ll blend in.” Penelope gestures behind them and Hope turns to see the scene has changed. They’re on the edge of a dance floor, the room dim and smokey, and something smooth and rhythmic is playing, a jazz band situated at one side of the room.  _

_ Hope takes the offered hand and lets her lead, but only because she knows Penelope is the better dancer.  _

_ “So where are we?”  _

_ Penelope effortlessly switches hands as the music shifts into the next part of the dance. “I don’t know, Hope. It’s your dream.” _

_ “Okay. Why are you here?” It’s hard to believe this is a dream when Penelope feels so real in her arms as they twirl across the dance floor.  _

_ Penelope reaches up and tucks Hope’s hair behind her ear, leaning forward to whisper. “I’m trying to warn you.”  _

_ Hope tightens her grip on Penelope as her feelings of unease increase. “Warn me about what?”  _

_ “This is a dream, Hope. I only know what you know.” They switch sides in the dance, weaving through the other couples. Everything else just fades away when Hope looks in Penelope’s eyes; she only sees her. “But can’t you feel it? The reason you’ve been so on edge this year? You know something is coming.”  _

_ Hope almost stumbles at Penelope’s grave tone, the way she says what Hope has been avoiding in her own head. “What can I do?”  _

_ “I don’t know. But you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”  _

_ Hope sighs, keeping her gaze on Penelope as she dips her low and brings her back up, chest to chest. “You know I don’t believe that.  _

_ Penelope looks at her sadly as the music drifts into something slower, their steps changing to match the tempo until they’re just swaying, arms around each other.  _

_ As the music fades out, Penelope leans forward to kiss Hope. As she pulls back, she whispers, “Time to go.”  _

_ “Wait, I-” _

Hope wakes up suddenly. 

It takes her a moment to place her surroundings and then the reason she’s woken up: someone is knocking insistently on the door. 

She staggers out of bed, and because there’s nothing at Salvatore scarier than herself, she doesn’t bother checking the peephole. Hope just pries open the door and there she is, like something out of her dreams: Penelope Park. 

“Heyyyy baby.” 

Hope raises one unamused eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl just stop by and say hello?” Penelope sways abruptly, falling forward until Hope catches her. The scent of alcohol increases.

“Oh. You’re drunk.” Hope realizes. 

“Extremely.” Penelope agrees, still limp in Hope’s arms. As an afterthought, she bites at Hope’s shoulder. 

“You’d make a terrible vampire.” Amusement colors Hope’s voice as she helps Penelope stumble to the bed, shutting the door behind them.

“Well, that’s simply just not true.” Penelope starfishes across the bed, still managing to give Hope a disgruntled look at the same time. Her hair falls across her face, but she doesn’t bother to fix it, and the eyeliner on her left eye is slightly smudged. 

She’s truly the most beautiful woman Hope’s ever seen. 

Hope frowns as soon as the thought passes through her mind, shaking her head as if that will get rid of it. Penelope is drunker than that time on the rooftop, relaxed and unguarded. 

“You’re going to have such a bad hangover tomorrow.” 

Penelope grins up at her. “At least I’ll have you to take care of me.” 

Hope scoffs. “I don’t think so.” But she makes her way over to the bed anyway, falling on top of the covers so that Penelope can crawl up and put her head in Hope’s lap, Hope’s hands absently playing with Penelope’s hair. Penelope hums in satisfaction. 

“Why’d you leave the party early?” Hope asks softly as she cards her fingers through Penelope’s dark locks. 

“Because they’re all lame. I wanted to see you.” Penelope mumbles, halfway to asleep under Hope’s ministrations. 

Hope bites her lip to suppress a smile as that warm, swirly feeling stirs in her stomach. And because Penelope is relaxed and pliant under her hands, she asks something she would never ask in the light of day. 

“Why? Why did you want to see me? Why do you keep coming back even when I’m sad and mad and broken?”

“Hmm.” Penelope hums thoughtfully. “Well, you care so much about helping others. With your friends you’re loyal till the end and like, genuinely nice to people even though with everything you’ve been through no one would fault you for hating the world. You're so full of compassion, even when you try to pretend you don’t care. You’re funny and you challenge me and you’re brave, maybe a little too brave, frankly.” Penelope chuckles lowly. “You’re Hope fucking Mikaelson. Anyone would be lucky to know you.” She yawns. “But you know all that.”

Hope blinks back the sudden tears in her eyes. 

“Come on.” She rolls Penelope to the side so she can pull the blankets over them. “You should sleep.” 

Penelope burrows into Hope’s side. 

“Will you stay?” 

When Hope looks in Penelope’s eyes, she realizes Penelope’s not quite as inebriated as she’s acting. But if she wants to pretend the alcohol is the reason for the vulnerability in her voice, Hope isn’t going to stop her. 

“We’re in my bed.” Hope reminds her. 

“Still.” 

Hope supposes she can allow herself one fond smile. “Yes, I’ll stay.” 

“Hmph. Good.” Penelope, eyes still closed, reaches up until she finds Hope’s shirt collar and tries to tug her closer. 

“Are you trying to kiss me? Is that what’s happening? 

Penelope opens her eyes blearily so she can give Hope a half-hearted glare. “There’s no reason to sound so smug.” 

“It’s just so rare to see the great Penelope Park off her game.” Hope teases, keeping just out of reach. 

“Hopeeeee.” Penelope shuffles closer still. “Just kiss me already.”

“So demanding.” Hope says, shaking her head as she leans down to press her lips to Penelope’s. Penelope sighs contentedly into the kiss. 

When Hope kisses Penelope, the warmth and emotions that flow through her are so powerful and all-encompassing that Hope doesn’t know what to do with them. When they’re together, Hope’s heart feels so full, it could break her. 

As they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, Hope’s last thought is this: 

Hope is indestructible and Penelope is untouchable, but sometimes when their lips meet, Hope thinks neither of them will survive this.

* * *

Hope enters her room, dropping her bag on the floor and tossing her jacket on top of Penelope’s. She frowns when she sees Penelope on the bed.

“What’re you doing here?” 

Penelope looks down pointedly at her book and then back up at Hope. “I’m hiking Mt. Everest. What do you think I’m doing?” 

“Well, why are you doing it  _ here _ ?” Hope snaps, pulling her bra off through her shirtsleeve and kicking an errant stack of clothes out of the way. 

“Just to annoy you, obviously.” Penelope’s gaze follows Hope as she stomps her way through the room. “What’s got you so pissed off? Run into Lizzie and Sebastian making out in the hallways again?” 

“No, but I saw Landon’s Valentine’s Day display for Josie.” Hope shoots back as she digs through her drawers for a pair of sweatpants. “Is that why you’re hiding in here?” From the corner of her eye, she sees Penelope wince. 

“I’m just sitting here quietly, must you attack me like this?” 

“You’re never just ‘sitting quietly’. There’s always a scheme or something.” 

“Wow.” Penelope licks one finger suggestively, maintaining eye contact, then turns the page of her book. “Someone’s in a bad mood.” 

“There’s been a crazy uptick in monsters that need slaying lately, I’ve been having strange and ominous dreams, and now it’s Valentine’s Day and I had to listen to Lizzie describe in  _ detail _ all the things she was going to do with Sebastian. Forgive me for not feeling amiable.” 

“So you have to take it out on me?” Penelope sticks out her lower lip. “I’m innocent here.” 

“Don’t… don’t give me that look.” Hope flings her shirt at the woman giving the pouty look. “Let me be angry in peace!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Penelope demurs, her pout intensifying. 

“Sure you don’t.” Hope grabs a towel and trudges off to the bathroom, lest she be persuaded by Penelope’s pleading eyes. 

She returns from the shower marginally calmer, though no less upset, picking up her dirty clothes from where she left them and straightening up the things she knocked over. 

“Feeling better?” Penelope asks. 

Instead of responding, Hope falls face forward onto the bed, immediately rolling over to tuck her face against Penelope’s chest. 

“Aw, babe.” Penelope’s voice is only a little teasing. She sets her book aside so she can rub Hope’s back. “Long day?” 

Hope just grumbles, shifting so she’s more firmly on top of Penelope. “Long life.” 

“Oh, we’re angsty today, are we?”

“Fuck off.” Hope pokes Penelope in the side, making her yelp. 

“Alright, alright.” Penelope surrenders. “Yeesh. Forgot we don’t talk about our feelings here.” She goes back to reading, spelling her book to float above them so Hope can stay tucked against her shoulder. 

Hope tries to get lost in the smell of Penelope and clean laundry, counting her breaths and matching them to the soothing thump of Penelope’s heartbeat, but it’s not enough to cool the anger in her veins. Restless and agitated, Hope decides to head to the woods. She rolls off of Penelope and puts on her shoes. 

“I’m going for a run.” 

“Be back before midnight or I’ll send Alaric after you.” Penelope replies mildly. 

Without thinking, Hope turns back to the bed and leans down to press a brief kiss to Penelope’s lips as a goodbye. It’s only when she reaches the door that she realizes what she’s done. 

Hope slowly rotates back around to see Penelope watching her, eyes widened slightly before Penelope rearranges it into an apathetic look. 

They just look at each other for a moment, and Hope doesn’t know what scares her more: that she kissed Penelope so instinctually or how right it felt. Hope decides she’s not going to address it at all. 

“Do you want to come?”

Penelope raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Like, to the woods? With you as a wolf?” 

Is that weird? Something in Penelope’s tone makes it sound like maybe it’s weird that Hope’s offering. “I mean, you don’t have to.” Hope shoves her hands into her back pockets. She’s not sure why she feels the sudden urge to blush. 

“No, no, don’t take it back.” Penelope puts her book down and pops off the bed, snagging Hope’s sweatshirt from where she’d tossed it earlier and pulling it on. “I just thought it was personal, or whatever. And even if it wasn’t, I know how you are.” 

“Oh?” Hope props one hand on her hip. “And how am I?” 

Penelope steps in front of Hope and drags one hand along Hope’s arm from her shoulder to her hip, catching Hope’s hand with her own when she reaches it. “You know what I mean.” Penelope leans a little closer, holding that intense eye contact that makes Hope throb. With her free hand, she toys with the zipper of Hope’s jacket. “Private, mysterious loner. Hidden behind all those walls. Doesn’t like to be vulnerable with anyone.” 

“I wouldn’t say the transformation makes me  _ vulnerable _ .” Hope keeps her eyes on Penelope, resisting the urge to let her gaze drop to her lips. She sways forward into Penelope’s orbit, a planet helplessly pulled by the gravity of the sun. 

“No?” They’re so close now, the warmth of Penelope’s breath ghosts across Hope’s lips as she speaks. The tension is almost unbearable. 

“No.” Hope shakes her head, the movement brushing her lips against Penelope’s. “I think-”

Penelope cuts her off by kissing her, the heat between them boiling over, a spark turned to flame. With the hand that isn't entertwined with Penelope’s, Hope threads her finger into Penelope’s hair and tugs her closer. Penelope lets out a little whimper when Hope bites at her bottom lip, her grip tightening in Hope’s. Hope rotates them so she can press Penelope against the door, but the pressure pushes open the door instead, the two women stumbling into the hall and breaking the kiss. 

They just look at each other for a moment, their breathing loud and harsh in the otherwise quiet hallway.

“We were...” Penelope’s cheeks are flushed. “We were going for a run?” 

“Right.” Hope wipes Penelope’s lipstick off her own lips with the back of her hand. She keeps her eyes on the wall, because she knows if she looks at Penelope right now, they won’t make it out of the room at all tonight. “Right.” She exhales slow, trying to calm her breathing. “Let’s go.” 

Penelope chuckles quietly as they walk, their hands brushing. 

-

“Stay over there!” 

Penelope lays back on the grass, using Hope’s jacket as a pillow as she tucks her arms behind her head, staring up at the sky. 

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked!” She calls to Hope. 

Hope paces a lap along the forest floor. She’s never done this around someone before, except Landon that one time, which doesn’t count, and with her father that first time all those years ago, and possibly some other times that were not mentioned in the vampire diaries wiki page. 

“Just- stay over there!” She shouts back. 

“Hurry up, Lassie, little Timmy’s in the well again!” 

“I changed my mind! Go back to the dorms!”

Penelope’s laugh, bright and clear, carries through the trees. “Are you having trouble back there? Performance anxiety is very common, Hope, don’t feel bad.” 

Hope grits her teeth and paces another lap. “You know I won’t be able to talk, right?” 

“I usually carry our conversations anyway. I assume you’ll still be able to do your moody looks and sighs as a wolf?” 

“I hate you!” Hope yells through the trees. She toes off her shoes and pulls her shirt over her head. 

“Go run some laps and maybe you’ll change your mind!” 

Hope growls under her breath as she strips off her jeans and boxers. “I hope my wolf bites you.” 

“I heard that!” 

Hope shakes her head and doesn’t bother with any further comments, focusing on her transformation the way her father taught her. 

When she’s shifted, Hope feels the thrill of adrenaline coursing through her. She only pauses a moment before she’s taking off for the woods, reveling in the burn of her muscles, the trees whipping past her as she picks up speed. There are few things more cathartic than the feeling Hope gets when she lets everything go and just runs; it makes the pain of transforming into a wolf worth it. 

The most difficult part of the exercise, if Hope is being honest, is stopping. The urge to run forever, to push until her legs give way, to end up somewhere where nowhere knows her name or her legacy, pulls at her. Every time she hits the Mystic Falls border, there’s that second of hesitation, that second where she almost doesn’t stop. But she always stops. 

Tonight, though. Tonight she has someone to go back for. 

When Hope gets back to the clearing, Penelope has propped herself up against a tree, rereading a worn book. She looks up at the sound of Hope’s approach, setting aside her book. 

“Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”

Hope can only hope that her unimpressed look still conveys while in wolf form. She trots over to Penelope’s side, circling a few times before she curls up with a huff, nose over her paws. 

Penelope reaches over to card her hands through the fur behind Hope’s ears.

“Hmm. You’re softer than I expected.” 

Hope can’t talk, obviously, so she just turns her head and nips at Penelope’s hand.

“My, what big teeth you have.” Penelope murmurs, running one fingertip along Hope’s sharper canines. Hope opens her mouth wider and then clamps her teeth around Penelope’s hand, careful not to actually hurt her. 

“Oh, very ferocious.” Penelope nods placatingly. “ _ I’m _ afraid of the big bad wolf.” 

All her senses are heightened as a wolf; Hope is distinctly aware of the unique and now familiar scent of Penelope, her perfume and her sweat, mixed with the usual smells of the woods- prey and greenery and earth. She can feel each indentation of Penelope’s fingerprints as she strokes her hand through Hope’s fur, can hear her heart thumping in her chest, the soft rush of air as she inhales and exhales. There is something thrilling and intimate about it all, about the chance to see Penelope in this different way.

“You know, I never had a dog, when I was a kid.” 

Hope resents the comparison to a dog, but doesn’t interrupt because Penelope is looking down, unfocused and lost in a memory. 

“I almost got a cat, once, but my mother-” She shuts her mouth so quickly her teeth click. “Anyway. Maybe I’ll sneak a cat into the dorms.”

Hope growls a little, disapproving, which makes Penelope laugh. 

“You don’t like cats, huh? I guess that makes sense cause you’re a werewolf, but it’s funny because it seems like you really like pu-”

Hope barks to stop Penelope from finishing that sentence and Penelope laughs again, her teeth flashing in the dim light. 

Emotions are simpler in her wolf form, clearer and less complicated than when she’s human. So it’s very obvious to Hope that the knot of feeling in her chest is affection for Penelope. 

And she remembers how that made her panic, just a few months ago, she does. But the longer things go without disaster or death or curses, the more Hope is beginning to believe that it’s okay. That she can care about Penelope, that she can let herself have this. 

“So… should I throw a stick for you or something? I didn’t bring any tennis balls.” 

Luckily Penelope always knows just what to say to piss Hope off. Hope gives her best wolf glare. 

“Oh! I’ve got it, hold on.” Penelope scrolls through something on her phone, then mumbles a spell under her breath:

“ _ Celeritas _ .”

She looks at Hope with that mischievous glint that always means trouble, then pushes abruptly off the ground. “Race you!”

Hope can’t point out that Penelope is a cheater, so she just barks and takes off after Penelope as they race the length of the clearing. Just before they reach the tree line, Hope takes an extra long stride and grabs the edge of Penelope’s shirt with her teeth, tugging her so she stumbles and Hope can sprint ahead, skidding to a stop when they hit the randomly selected end mark. 

“Cheating!” Penelope gasps out, hands on her knees while she tries to catch her breath. “You cheated!” 

Hope opens her mouth in her best smug-wolf smile, tongue lolling out. She trots a victory lap around Penelope, making Penelope laugh. 

“Alright, I get it. Wolf speed beats magic.” 

Satisfied, Hope tilts her head and lopes off, assuming Penelope will follow. 

“Okay, well you don’t need to show off!” Penelope calls as she jogs after the wolf. 

When they reach the top of the hill that Hope has directed them to, Hope splays out in the tall grass. Penelope glares at her when she catches up. 

“Next time…” She starts between breaths, “we do this… you… can… carry me.” She flops down next to Hope on the ground and throws up one hand blindly to stroke Hope’s fur. Hope can’t help but let out a low whine, though she manages to resist rolling over to expose her stomach. From here, they can see the stars spread out in the Virginian sky. Hope can hear Penelope’s words echo through her mind like a heartbeat:  _ Next time _ . The promise of a future. 

“Shall I teach you all the constellations? I know how much you love a cliche.” 

Hope gratefully takes the distraction and listens to the easy timbre of Penelope’s voice for at least twenty minutes before she realizes Penelope doesn’t know anything about astronomy and has been spouting complete bullshit the whole time. She nudges at Penelope’s head with her snout.

Penelope laughs. “I was wondering when you’d notice.” She tilts so she can look Hope in the eyes. “As much as I love airbud-Hope, can you change back? I miss the strength of your full glare.” She snaps her fingers to bring Hope’s clothes from the clearing and Hope obediently trots into the brush to shift.

“How do you not know where the Big Dipper is? Everyone knows that.” Hope asks as she rejoins Penelope in the field

Penelope grins, her eyes combing over Hope’s body. When Hope sits next to her, Penelope tugs her by the collar of her shirt so she can kiss her, slow and deep. When she pulls back, Hope is breathless. 

“I was simply checking to see if you were paying attention.” 

Hope inhales slow, the night air still and quiet around them. “I’m always paying attention.”  _ To you _ goes unsaid. 

“Well, how could you not.” Penelope tosses her hair with an exaggerated seductive look, making Hope roll her eyes and shake her head as she stands up. 

“Come on, heartbreaker, we should head back inside.” 

Hope is the only one of them with supernatural vision, so she  _ has _ to hold Penelope’s hand to lead her back through the woods. That’s the only reason. The comfort Hope gets from their hands intertwined has nothing to do with it. 

“Thanks.” 

When Penelope gives her a questioning look, Hope adds: “For coming out here with me.” 

“No need to thank me.” And because Penelope can’t go ten seconds without ruining a poignant moment, she adds, “I just figured you’d be all full of adrenaline after and the sex would be really good.”

Hope barks a laugh, knocking her shoulder into Penelope’s to make her stumble. “I take back my thanks. You’re an asshole.” 

Penelope couples her shrug with a devastating smirk. “Eh. You’re into it, though.” 

And god, Hope really is into it. She actually  _ likes _ Penelope’s sarcastic streak, and she likes that she knows Penelope’s flippant flirting is just a cover up for her soft, vulnerable side. She hasn’t even thought about Lizzie for hours now, the constant burn of heartbreak lowered to a simmer and ultimately forgotten while in Penelope’s presence. Somehow, without Hope noticing, Penelope has fit her way behind Hope’s carefully guarded walls. And Hope likes it. 

Plus, Penelope wasn’t exactly wrong about the adrenaline.

* * *

She should’ve checked who it was before she opened the door.

That’s what Hope will think, later, after the event. Why didn’t she check? Why did she just willingly open the door? 

Penelope is in the bathroom, after an exceedingly long shower that Hope had complained would use up all the hot water and Penelope promised to “make it up to her”. Hope is lounging on the bed, not worried about evil or magic or anything, which is possibly why she’s too relaxed and  _ doesn’t check who’s at the door _ . 

“Coming!” She calls when she hears the knock, dropping her phone onto the bed and making her way to the door. No one ever really comes by her room, so she assumes it’s MG looking for Penelope, or Alaric with an urgent monster to battle or something. “What happened now-”

It’s not MG or Alaric or anyone else, of course. 

It’s Lizzie and Josie. 

Hope feels her smile freeze on her face.  _ Oh shit. _ She angles her body so she’s blocking the view into her room. 

“Oh, hey. What’re you guys doing here?” Hope swallows hard and hopes her voice sounds halfway normal, even as her heart rate ratchets up. 

“Let us in,” Lizzie demands.

“What? No,” Hope says, too quick, and she knows that’s not going to help her case. “I mean. Why?”

“Because you have nothing to hide?”

Josie rolls her eyes at Lizzie and Hope’s aggressive stances. “Hi Hope. We just wanted to come by and talk. Can we come in?” 

Hope hesitates. When she takes more than a second to respond, Lizzie shoves Josie forward, so Hope releases the door to catch Josie before she hits the ground, and Lizzie uses the distraction to shove past them both into Hope’s room. 

“Sorry.” Josie says, looking apologetic as she extracts herself from Hope’s arms and follows Lizzie in. 

“I’m not.” Lizzie states, standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of the room. “Someone has to do something!”

“Do something about what?” Hope glances quickly towards the bathroom door, grateful the shower is already off and Penelope’s music playing obscures any noise from the bathroom. If she can just get the twins out of here before Penelope comes back out…

“About all… this!” Lizzie waves her hands at all of Hope.

“We want to know what’s been going on with you lately.” Josie adds diplomatically. 

“You’re busy, and not with saving-the-world-shit, you have friends and you hang out with us, you actually  _ smile  _ sometimes, it’s all…” Lizzie shudders, “Very disturbing.” 

“Confusing.” Josie interjects. “She means confusing. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, there’s always the burden of my family’s legacy and the immense amount of pain I have in my life due to past events I can’t control, but other than that, yeah I’m good!”

Lizzie narrows her eyes and walks in a slow circle around Hope while Hope tries not to fidget. 

“Mhm… I see…” Lizzie taps her chin in thought. When she concludes her circle, she crosses her arms with a satisfied look. “Yup, I’ve figured it out.”

“Lizzie, I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish but-”

“You’re fucking someone.”

Josie chokes on air at the same time as Hope makes an indignant noise of protest. 

“I am not!” 

“You ARE!” Lizzie points at Hope accusingly. “That’s why you’re so relaxed and smiley all the time!” 

“I am not  _ smiley _ !”

“Okay, while I don’t agree with Lizzie’s phrasing…” Josie interjects hesitantly, “You are way more cheerful lately. Like when you got infected with those evil slug things.”

“Exactly!” Lizzie nods vehemently. “And  _ please  _ don’t tell me it’s Roman, because frankly that guy is just creepy, not to mention he practically-”

“Oh my god, I’m not sleeping with Roman!” Hope exclaims. “And can we talk about this later?” She tries to herd Lizzie towards the door, but she won’t budge. 

“We’re talking about it now! So just tell us who you’re having sex with.” 

“Oh my god!” Hope runs her hands through her hair. “I’m not sleeping with anyone!”

Lizzie looks her dead in the eyes and Hope knows she’s fucked. 

“Then who,” Lizzie points with one hand, “is in the bathroom right now?”

Because her life is a comedy of errors, the bathroom door opens right on cue, and Hope can see exactly what’s about to happen but she really can’t think of a way to stop it. 

Penelope steps into the room barefoot, clad in only boy shorts and a red bra that Hope has mentioned liking one time. She’s putting in an earring, head tilted to the side, so she doesn’t see the situation right away. 

“I’m going to start making you pay for the cover up, you leave so many...” Penelope looks up and pauses mid-sentence, her eyes darting from Hope to Lizzie to Josie, then to her own topless self, then back to Hope. “... oh.”

“Holy fuck.” Lizzie says, jaw dropped. “I knew it.” 

Penelope scoffs, making no move to find a shirt. “You did not.” 

“I did!” 

“Did not.” 

Hope picks up the nearest clean shirt and throws it at Penelope. Penelope turns to her and winks. “Thanks babe.” 

“Oh jesus…” Hope mumbles under her breath. 

“‘ _ Babe _ ’?!” Josie nearly shrieks. 

“Oh my god. You two are shacking up. Oh my god.” Hope can’t tell if Lizzie is furious or entertained. 

“‘Shacking up’?” Penelope pulls on Hope’s shirt ( _ and god, does she have to look so effortlessly breathtaking in everything she wears? _ Hope thinks, before reminding herself there are bigger issues at hand) and shakes out her hair. “What, you fuck one guy from England and suddenly you’re British?” 

“‘ _ Babe _ ’?!” Josie repeats, looking dazed.

“Okay,” Hope holds her hands up pleadingly, “it’s not what it looks like.” 

Lizzie crosses her arms and looks them both up and down. “So you’re not sleeping with the daughter of Satan here?” 

“If you’re going to try to insult me, at least come up with some new insults.” Penelope mutters. 

“Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like.” Hope really should’ve thought of a story for when this moment arrived.

“Well, you’re not very sly,” Lizzie states. “Actually, I can’t believe we didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“It’s called suspension of disbelief.” Penelope interjects helpfully. “It’s needed in this story.” 

Josie still looks like she’s in shock. “So, what? You’re dating? You’re in love with each other?!”

“No, of course not.” Hope assures, her words too quick and harsh. Of the other three occupants in the room, only Hope notices Penelope’s nearly-undetectable flinch at her words. “We’re just sleeping together.” She tries helplessly.

“JUST?!” Lizzie throws her hands up to emphasize how not okay this is. “She’s the enemy, Hope, you can’t “just” be fucking her!”

“ _ She _ is standing right here.” Penelope points out, no longer looking amused. 

“Josie is dating Landon!” Hope blurts out, trying to get her thoughts in order before things escalate. 

“Yeah, but Landon is nice. Penelope terrorized Josie for months after the break up! Landon isn’t  _ evil _ !” 

“ _ Penelope _ isn’t evil.” Hope snaps, defensive. “And you haven’t said anything other than insults to her in almost a year, so don’t act like you know her anymore.” 

“And you do?” Lizzie crosses her arms “You know her?”

“Well...” Hope falters, unwillingly to incriminate herself. 

“Hope,” Lizzie pounces on Hope’s hesitation, her anger apparent, “It’s Penelope Park!! You can’t… you can’t seriously be sleeping with her!” 

“I _ can’t _ ?” Hope’s tone drops dangerously, but Lizzie doesn’t back down. 

“Yeah, Hope, you can’t. I’m sorry, but it’s just not okay!”

“Oh good, we’re going to tell Hope who she can and can’t hang out with.” Penelope mutters, but the other three ignore her. 

“She doesn’t bother you guys anymore! Why does it matter who I’m sleeping with?!”

“Because it’s Penelope! How could you possibly..” Lizzie looks at a loss for words. “I mean what did she say to you to convince you to do this?”

Lizzie’s words must jar something in Josie’s mind, because suddenly Josie seems to snap out of her shocked silence and she turns to Penelope, her eyes murderous.

“Listen Penelope, if you’re using Hope in some sort of ploy to-”

“To make you jealous? To piss you off?” Penelope tilts her head mockingly, tension in her stance. “Gosh, then I’d say it’s working pretty well, wouldn’t you agree?”

Josie opens her mouth to fire something off, possibly a spell with actual fire, but Penelope straightens up and keeps going. “Oh relax, JoJo, I’m kidding. Not everything is about you, you know.” She looks utterly unruffled as Josie stares her down. “Hope and I’s relationship- 

Or lack thereof-” She adds when the three other girls start to object, 

“Is none of your business. It stopped being your business when you stopped giving a fuck about me.”

Josie crosses her arms with a huff. “She’s my best friend, I think that makes it my business.” 

“So your best friend isn’t allowed to speak to your ex girlfriend, but it’s okay that you’re fucking her ex boyfriend?” Penelope’s eyes have gone sharp the way they do when she’s on the attack. Hope can’t decide if she’s worried about the fight that’s clearly brewing or just turned on by Penelope’s possessiveness. She looks helplessly at Lizzie for assistance. 

Lizzie arches one eyebrow back at her, as if to say:  _ You got yourself into this mess.. _ .

“And I must say,” Penelope stalks forward like a lioness on the hunt, “It’s awfully convenient how she’s your best friend when you want something, but not the rest of the time.”

“That’s not true.” Josie hisses.

“Then act like it!” Hope has never seen Penelope like this. “For Gods’ sake, we’ve been hanging out for months and neither of you noticed.” 

“ _ You _ are going to tell us to be better friends?” Lizzie laughs, loud and mocking. “As if you’ve ever been anything other than the world’s biggest bitch to us and everyone else.” 

Penelope doesn’t take her eyes off Josie. 

“She’s right.” Josie says, decisive, and Hope winces, because she knows exactly how much that will hurt Penelope. “Don’t act like you’re so innocent, Penelope.”

“Well, maybe if you’d read my fucking letter, you’d have seen how I apologized profusely and promised to leave you alone. Maybe if you’d done anything other than avoid me like the fucking plague, I’d have had the chance to be better!” Penelope snarls, and Hope sees that echo of heartbreak in her eyes once more.  _ Shit _ . 

Josie must see it too, because she blinks in surprise, her defensive posture faltering. “Penny, I…” 

“Don’t.” Penelope straightens up suddenly, as if she’s realized she’s perilously close to losing control, the despair just falling away as her expression shutters. Her eyes harden. “Just… don’t.” 

Then she turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room, the door slamming behind her. 

There’s a brief pause where no one says anything. 

“Well, that was dramatic.” Lizzie says, tossing her hair back as if to rid herself of the bad vibes.

Josie looks at Hope regretfully. “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to hurt her.” 

“I know.” Hope murmurs. “It’s not your fault she still has feelings for you.” 

“Penelope Park doesn’t have feelings! The fact that you think she does only proves how deep she has her claws into you!” Lizzie interjects. 

“Well, she has feelings for Josie. Everyone knows that.”

“Had.” Josie corrects. “Had feelings for me.”

“And for you, apparently.” Lizzie says to Hope, ignoring Josie’s obviously incorrect comment. 

Hope blanches. “No, no. We’re just sleeping together. It’s a stress relief thing. She doesn’t… We don’t… We hate each other.” 

Lizzie snorts. “Yeah, I could really tell how much you hate her.”

“How did you even start hanging out?” Josie asks, and Hope doesn’t want to lie to her. She shrugs helplessly. 

“I don’t know, we both couldn’t be with the people we wanted to be with, so…” 

“Wait.” Lizzie pins her with a look. “Who did you want to be with?” 

God, Hope just cannot catch a break today, huh? 

“Uh… that doesn’t really matter.”

“Sure it does. We can help you get with them instead of Maleficent over here.”

Hope sighs and decides she really can’t do this today. She looks at Josie instead. 

“Josie, I know I should’ve told you sooner. And I know this is a lot to adjust to. But she really doesn’t bother you guys anymore. You’ve been broken up for over a year.”

Josie shifts uncomfortably. “That’s true…”

“And Lizzie, you have to admit she only bickers with you when you start it.” 

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “I mean, I guess…”

“So it’s really not a big deal, right? You guys are happy in your relationships. Penelope and I are just using each other to blow off some steam. Everyone is good.” 

Lizzie looks over at Josie, then sighs. “Well, you have been more relaxed lately.” 

Hope looks at Josie again, who seems to be contemplating. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to get hurt, Hope?” 

How can Hope explain that if anyone is going to get hurt, it’s probably Penelope? She just shakes her head. “It’ll be fine, Jos. Really.” 

Josie sighs. “As long as you know what you’re doing.” 

Lizzie looks into the camera like she’s on the Office. “Oh good, this seems like it’ll all end well with no complications whatsoever.” 

Seeing that everyone appears calm, Hope grabs her jacket and her shoes. “We can talk about this more later, alright?”

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure Penelope is okay.” Hope says it like it’s obvious, and she misses the twins exchanging looks because she’s already heading out the door. 

-

Hope’s first stop is Penelope’s room, but it’s empty. 

She tries the rooftop, but no one is there either.

“Would it be too much to ask that one thing be easy?” Hope mutters to herself as she jogs through the hall, trying to figure out where else Penelope might have gone. 

She’s about to go check outside when she spots one of the girls from Penelope’s coven in the hallway. Hope walks over. 

“Hey, you know Penelope, right?”

The girl looks up from her phone and eyes Hope with distaste. “Uh, yeah. Do you?” 

Luckily Hope’s had years of practice with Lizzie’s bitchiness, so this girl’s pointed tone doesn’t phase her. 

“Yeah, I do. Do you know where she is right now?”

“I know it’s not any of your business.” 

Okay, it doesn’t phase her but Hope really doesn’t have time for this. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. Do you know where she is or not?” 

The girl sighs like she’s never been so inconvenienced. “Fine. She went to the lower dorms, I think. But just so you know, you’re really not her type.” 

“That’s not what I- nevermind.” Hope shakes her head. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t!” The girl calls as Hope jogs away. 

Hope doesn’t really ever visit the lower dorms where the younger children’s rooms are unless it’s required for community service. Still, she’s been at Salvatore long enough to know her way around every hallway and classroom. One of the children’s caretaker’s is kind enough to point her in the right direction, and that’s how Hope finds Penelope in one of the play areas building Legos with Layla. 

“Hey guys.” 

Penelope’s head snaps up at the sound of Hope’s voice, but she almost immediately averts eye contact. Layla waves excitedly. “Hope! Hi!!!!!”

Hope waves back with a smile as she approaches, crouching down to Layla’s level. “Can I play with you guys?” 

“No.” Penelope mumbles.

Layla looks confused.“But Penelope, you said we’re always supposed to share our toys.”

“Yeah, Penelope.” Hope goads, just a little. 

“Whatever.” Penelope waves a hand in Hope’s general direction. 

“We’re building a castle.” Layla explains. “But Penny isn’t good at building, so she gets them ready and I put them together.

“I see.” Hope sits down next to Penelope. “Well, I’ll help Penelope with the pieces and you tell us what you need, okay?” 

Layla nods seriously before going back to attempting to jam two pieces together. 

Hope shifts so her knee bumps against Penelope’s.

“Are you okay?” She murmurs. 

“Never better.” 

“Seriously.” 

“Red square please.” Layla holds out one little hand and Penelope hands her the requested piece. 

When Penelope speaks to Hope next, she keeps her voice low. 

“If you came here to tell me you want to stop,” Penelope won’t meet Hope’s gaze and it’s a somber reminder of the impact Josie has on Penelope’s usually unshakable demeanor. “I get it. Don’t worry about it.” She trails off, leaving Hope confused. 

“Blue.” Layla instructs, and Hope wordlessly passes over a blue piece, keeping her eyes on Penelope, studying her tense posture as if that will clue Hope in on Penelope is talking about. 

“Stop what?” 

“This.” Penelope gestures between the two of them. “Us.” 

“Purple?” Layla requests, and Penelope busies herself handing over a variety of purple pieces for Layla to use. Hope waits for Layla to turn back to her creation before she responds. 

“What, because Lizzie and Josie know?”

Penelope shrugs, her eyes still downcast. “If you have to choose…”

_ Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s picked Lizzie Saltzman over me. _

Hope frowns as she remembers their conversation from months ago. “I don’t have to choose. They’ll get over it.” 

Hope knocks her shoulder against Penelope’s when Penelope scoffs. “They will! Plus, since when have you cared what Lizzie Saltzman thinks?” 

“ _ I _ don’t.” Penelope mutters pointedly, and Hope realizes Penelope truly thinks Hope is going to choose the twins over her. 

Hope was concerned that Penelope would be brooding over Josie’s harsh rebuff, but it’s Hope that Penelope is worried about losing. 

“I knew they wouldn’t take it well. I mean, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to this.” Hope says, and when that gets no response, she puts one hand on Penelope’s thigh and sighs, gathering her strength. All her self preservation instincts tell her not to do this, but she ignores them. “You know I’m here because I want to be, right?” It would be easier to confess this if her heart would stop pounding. “When I say I hate you, you know what I mean, right?”

Maybe it’s not fair, but that’s the most Hope can say. She just has to hope that Penelope knows what she means, that Penelope will wordlessly understand what Hope is trying to convey, and it’s not that she hates her at all. 

Penelope looks at her from the side, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. It’s not a full smile, but it's better than nothing. 

“You’re too sweet. Is this a proposal? Are you proposing right now? Oh Hope, you should’ve told me, I would’ve brought my camera!” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Hope shoves Penelope away, rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling too, relieved to have pulled Penelope out of her head. 

“Hope!” A squeal brings them out of their bubble. “We can’t say that word!!” Layla looks mortified on Hope’s behalf. 

“Oof. She’s right, Mikaelson. That’s a very bad word.” Penelope shakes her head in mock disapproval. “Tsk tsk. Don’t worry Layla, I’ll make sure she’s punished later.”

Hope pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs at Penelope’s innuendo-laced tone. “Sorry about that, Layla. Do you wanna show me what you’ve built?”

The small girl nods excitedly and starts showing Hope all the features of their Lego castle. Hope is listening, but she does tilt her head a little so she can catch Penelope’s eye and smile, relieved when Penelope smiles back. 

Layla holds up the little lego figures one by one. “This is me and this is Natasha and this is Penelope.”

“And this is Hope.” Penelope holds up a little dog figure. 

“I hate you.” 

Penelope and Layla burst into giggles while Hope rolls her eyes, a fond smile on her face. 

* * *

Hope’s never been bullied. 

Maybe it’s because everyone knows she’s Klaus Mikaelson’s daughter, or maybe it’s because her default expression gives off a “don’t fuck with me” vibe, but Hope’s never had trouble with her peers. Trouble from enemies of her father, enemies of her family, people who think she shouldn’t exist, yes. But not from her classmates. 

So she’s not sure what’s happening today. 

Hope is just walking to class, minding her own business like she always does, when she trips over nothing. Even with her enhanced reflexes, Hope’s books go flying as she sprawls out along the floor and when she looks up, she sees a group of freshman witches laughing behind their hands, pointing and murmuring among themselves. She doesn’t understand though, not until they see her watching and scatter, laughing still, and Hope hears one of them say Penelope’s name. 

MG sidles up to her as they disperse. 

“Penelope’s always had… admirers,” he says, almost apologetically, as he helps her to collect her books. The pieces click together in Hope’s mind. 

“Oh.” She accepts the last of her papers from MG with a nod. “They’re jealous because Penelope and I… hang out sometimes?” 

MG gives her a skeptical look but doesn’t call Hope out on the blatant downplay of their relationship. “Yeah. They all want her attention, so when someone else gets it… They turn petty. Something about coven dynamics, Penelope’s tried to explain it to me, but I don’t really get it. They all hated Josie when Penelope dated her.” 

Hope frowns as they start walking to class again, ignoring the implication that Hope and Penelope’s relationship is the same as Penelope and Josie’s. “Really? I don’t remember them being mean or anything.” 

MG snorts. “Penelope wouldn’t let them. She can be really intimidating when she wants to be.” 

That makes Hope roll her eyes, because for all this talk of Penelope being terrorizing and scary, Hope doesn’t see it. Flirty, yes, and annoying, sure. But once you get to know her, she’s not the least bit frightening. 

And, Hope realizes with surprise, she  _ does _ know Penelope. Somehow with all the time they’ve spent together in the last seven months, Hope’s accidentally learned a lot about Penelope. 

She knows Penelope drinks an absurd amount of coffee and stays up too late, that she loves to read but can’t draw for shit, and she will not eat a pizza with bell peppers on it even if you pick off all the bell peppers for her after she complains for a half hour. Hope knows that she doesn’t have a favorite flower but she thinks conveying a message in flowers is romantic as hell, that Penelope has a soft spot for kids and has seen every Disney movie but refuses to watch any Star Wars movies because ‘I’m not a  _ nerd _ , Hope’, that she likes to discuss philosophy but thinks that Camus was full of shit and that Penelope’s favorite subject in regular school was English and her least favorite was Biology because in seventh grade she passed out during the frog dissection. Hope knows that Penelope scrunches her nose when she laughs and her eyes sparkle when she smiles and she knows that Penelope would rather make people hate her than be herself and be hated anyway, and that Penelope can slide on her shrewd bitch persona whenever she wants, but if you look close enough, you can tell it’s an act, and Hope  _ always _ can tell when it’s an act. 

Hope knows so much about Penelope that she doesn’t know what to do with it, and now that she’s seen Penelope at three am ranting about Pride and Prejudice and then falling asleep with her head on Hope’s lap, she knows that Penelope Park isn’t intimidating at all. 

But everyone else doesn’t know that, apparently. Hope thanks MG for his help and makes her way to class, resolving to talk to Penelope about it next time she sees her. 

And it’s only been like, two days since Hope saw her last, but Hope decides this is as good a reason as any to stop by Penelope’s room after dinner that evening 

When she gets there, the door is already partially ajar, so Hope just nudges it the rest of the way, assuming Penelope forgot to close it. But Hope is wrong; there’s a girl sitting at the desk, facing Penelope and looking scared. Penelope is speaking in hushed, ice tones, a barely contained fury in her voice that Hope’s never heard before. 

“-And if I ever, I mean,  _ ever,  _ hear about any of you pulling that kind of shit again, I won’t hesitate to call them. Do you understand?”

The girl starts stuttering out apologies and Hope can’t really blame whoever it is for being nervous, because Penelope looks  _ pissed _ . 

Hope is about to leave, fine with coming back at a time when Penelope doesn’t look quite so furious, when she realizes the girl Penelope is speaking to is one of the girls from the hallway incident this morning. 

“Oh.” Hope says lamely, and both heads whip towards her. 

Hope doesn’t know what to think of how fast Penelope’s face changes at the sight of her, from cold and closed off to something else entirely. 

Not happiness, not exactly, which is good because Hope doesn’t think she could take it; when she sees Lizzie smile at her, her heart squeezes with fear and guilt. 

No, she couldn’t take happiness, but she doesn’t mind the way Penelope sees her and her expression relaxes, her lips twisting into an almost smirk, her eyes alert. 

Hope allows the corners of her mouth to turn up in response. “Sorry to interrupt.” 

“You weren’t,” Penelope assures smoothly. “Gwen was just leaving.” 

She turns back to the girl and gives her an artificial smile. The girl nods frantically, looking a mix of afraid and starstruck, and hurriedly grabs her bag from the floor before rushing past Hope, avoiding eye contact. The door shuts behind her and Hope’s breath hitches when Penelope’s sharply possessive gaze meets her own. 

“Do I wanna know?” Hope asks, and Penelope shakes her head. 

“Probably not.” 

Hope almost questions further, but then Penelope shifts deliberately, her skirt hiking up just slightly, exposing another inch of tan thigh. 

Hope licks her lips, incidents of the day forgotten, and moves forward to meet Penelope in a bruising kiss. 

-

It’s only later that night, sweaty and pleasantly exhausted, that Penelope addresses it again. 

“I’m sorry, by the way.” She’s tracing patterns along Hope’s back under the sheets and Hope is close to dozing off. 

“Mh... For what?”

“The girls from my coven. They get jealous.” 

“It’s fine, I mean-” What she’s going to say is that Penelope isn’t  _ hers _ , so Hope doesn’t care, but the words don’t want to leave her mouth. “It’s fine.” 

“They won’t bother you again.” Penelope’s promise is firm and her eyes blaze with a fierce protectiveness that Hope’s not used to seeing. Usually Hope is the one protecting others. She smothers her smile against the sheets. 

“I don’t need you to protect me, you know. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Obviously. You don’t  _ need _ anyone to protect you, you’re too badass. I mean, you’re  Hope Mikaelson . But…” Penelope shrugs, the sheet falling away from her shoulders as she does, “that doesn’t mean you should have to always do it alone, you know? Doesn’t mean you can’t let other people protect you sometimes.” 

Hope can feel the warmth in her chest threatening to burn her, but she won’t let it show. “Why does everything have to be a therapy moment with you?”

Penelope laughs, leaning over to kiss Hope thoroughly. “Someone has to worry about the mental health of the great Tribrid.” 

Hope rolls her eyes, shifting so she can stradle Penelope and kiss her until she’s whimpering beneath her. “You’re so annoying.” 

Penelope grins up at her. “That’s not what you were saying last-” 

Hope kisses her just to shut her up, and if tonight she leaves some extra bruises just so that everyone knows exactly who Penelope spends her time with, well, Hope will never admit to it. 

* * *

Hope is facetiming with Freya, partly because she misses her aunt and partly because she needs advice on whatever is coming. 

Hope can feel it in her bones; the monsters, Malivore, the strange dreams, it all has to mean something.

It’s just her unfortunate luck that she doesn’t finish the call before Penelope comes over. 

Penelope saunters into the room, glancing at Hope’s screen before throwing herself onto the bed. 

“Hi Mikaelsons!” She calls out, as if she's ever met them.

“Who that?” Nik asks with his usual young curiosity. 

“That’s my-” Hope catches herself, then flounders: “-er… Penelope.” 

“ _ Your _ Penelope?” Her Penelope repeats, and Hope isn’t looking at her but she’s certain Penelope is raising her eyebrows. At least she can’t see Hope’s blush. 

“I meant-”

“Oh wait, Penelope Park? The girl Hope spent all winter moping over?” Keelin asks, appearing in the shot so she can peer over Freya’s shoulder to see the screen. 

“What! No!” Hope is strongly tempted to just shut the laptop. “I didn’t  _ mope _ ! And how did you even- I never told you her name!”

“Freya Mikaelson is one of the most powerful witches of our era,” Penelope informs her. “If she wants to know, she’ll know.” 

“Oh, I like her.” Freya nods approvingly. “And she’s prettier than the Saltzman girl.” 

“Thank you!” Penelope sits up at those words, grinning so wide that Hope just knows she's never going to hear the end of this. “I am  _ always _ telling her that.” 

“Okay, you guys cannot get along.” Hope rubs at her temple. “I’ll never survive.” 

“Come on, Hope, don’t you want me to get along with my in-laws?”

“In-laws?!” Freya repeats, looking delighted, and Hope absolutely isn’t letting this continue, so she rushes out a goodbye and a promise to call back soon and hangs up as quick as she can. She spins the chair around to glare. 

“Did you come here for a reason or just to torment me?”

“Just to torment you.” Penelope says easily, holding one arm open to beckon Hope into her arms. 

Hope looks at her with disdain for a moment before she relents and joins her. 

Later, Hope is laying on the bed, sketching in her notebook like she does every night, while Penelope sits at the vanity, getting ready for bed. Hope can’t help glancing up every so often to watch- there is something disconcertingly romantic about watching Penelope remove her makeup; like seeing her let down her walls and erase the mask of personality she uses to protect herself. 

Feeling bold, Hope speaks:

“You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?”

Penelope blinks, long and slow, watching Hope’s reflection, then shakes her head. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” She bites her lip. Whatever she’s going to say, Penelope appears to decide against it. Instead, she abandons her make up in favor of trapezing over to the bed, straddling Hope and pushing her drawing to the side. 

“Hey, I was-”

Hope doesn’t bother trying to finish her sentence; she eagerly returns Penelope’s kiss, letting her hands rest on Penelope’s thighs. 

_ God, this cannot be normal _ , she thinks. Why does she want Penelope so much? Why can’t she stop thinking about her? 

Penelope pulls back slightly, her eyes scanning Hope’s face, although for what, Hope doesn’t know. “You’re always so tense.” 

“You make me tense. It’s the stress,” Hope mutters, but it’s clearly a lie when Penelope kisses her again and all the tension melts from Hope’s body, putty in Penelope’s hands. There’s no urgency to their kisses, just the deep, hot press of Penelope’s lips against her own. Hope rotates them so they’re laying side by side, their legs intertwined.

“I guess everyone is right,” Hope says, honest while encased in the intimacy of the moment. 

Penelope’s eyes flutter open slowly. “Hmm?”

“You’re really beautiful.” 

“I..” Penelope flounders for a second, and Hope is shocked to see her blush. “What?”

Hope can’t help smiling, brushing her fingertips along the pink on Penelope’s cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” she repeats. 

Penelope narrows her eyes. “Why are you complimenting me? Did you destroy something?” She twists to check the room for damage, but Hope stops her with another kiss.

“Shh. I’m trying to be nice. Don’t be an ass about it.” 

“You only want me for my body, is that what you’re saying?”

“Oh my god.” Hope drops an open mouthed kiss to Penelope’s shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“But you think I’m beautifulllllll,” Penelope sing-songs. 

“Ugh. Don’t make me take it back.” Hope rolls her eyes in the fondest way possible.

Part of her wants to turn and press Penelope into the mattress, kissing her until she’s breathless, but she’s also content to just sit here and soak up Penelope’s sleepy warmth. The instinctual panic that accompanies any moment of positive emotion in Hope’s life has been easy to ignore lately. 

They spend the rest of the night wrapped up in each other, exchanging kisses and whispered conversation, until Penelope can’t keep her eyes open. 

With Penelope’s eyes closed, Hope is free to study her features, to let her gaze roam over the face with which she is now so familiar. 

“Watching people sleep is very creepy, you know.”

Hope startles out of her introspection. “I’m not watching you sleep,” she lies. 

“Mhm. Penelope burrows closer and her breathing starts to even out. 

“Even when you sleep,” Penelope mutters, and Hope thinks for a moment she’s sleep talking. “You’re guarded.”

“What do you mean?” Hope keeps her voice hushed. 

Penelope takes Hope’s hand and gently uncurls each finger one by one before wrapping it over her own hip. “You’re always on guard. Always trying to keep people at arms length.”

_ Not with you _ . Hope thinks. 

But she doesn’t say it out loud. 

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be off comforting your BFF?” Josie mutters when she joins Hope at breakfast on what appears to be a normal Thursday. 

Hope pauses, fork halfway to her mouth. “What?” 

“Mikaelson.” Lizzie looks confused as she walks up behind her sister. “What are you doing here? I thought…”

“Thought what?” Hope is unsettled by the looks on both twins’ faces. 

“Thought you’d be with Penelope.” Josie answers as Lizzie sits down.

“Why?”

“The Parks were in dad’s office this morning. Lots of yelling.” Lizzie shrugs and takes a bite. “It was super weird.” 

“The Parks? Like-”

“Penelope’s parents.” Josie finishes Hope’s question, her face twisted in a frown. “They’re high society rich witches. Her mom is the leader of the coven that Penelope’s supposed to take over. They think they’re better than everyone.”

“Apparently dad lost their contact information a while ago.” Lizzie adds. “And he hasn’t been getting their calls. They sounded pissed.” 

There’s a flash of a memory in Hope’s head, of a single piece of paper going up in smoke.  _ Shit _ . “And they’re here? Why?”

“No idea.”

Hope turns to Josie. “Do you know why Penelope doesn’t talk to them?” 

“No,” Josie says, glaring down at her breakfast. “She never wanted to talk about her parents. But I know they don’t get along.” 

“Well, who does get along with Penelope?” Lizzie points out, and Hope gives her a look like  _ now is not the time _ .

“Did Alaric say why they were here?”

“We didn't ask.” Josie clearly doesn’t want to discuss the topic anymore and Hope would normally let it go, but there’s a cold feeling in her gut that she can’t dispel. She glances down at her phone, but there’s no new messages.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna go check on her?” Lizzie is smirking like she knows something Hope doesn’t.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Hope says with a confidence she doesn’t feel. 

“Suit yourself.” Lizzie shrugs, and then Landon arrives so the topic is dropped. 

Hope checks her phone twice more before the first class of the day starts, but Penelope hasn’t texted. That’s normal because Penelope usually sleeps through her early classes, but the knowledge of a visit from the Park parents has Hope on edge. It’s not that she’s worried about Penelope, per se... It’s more like she’s worried about anyone who might be in the warpath of an upset Penelope. 

She’s in the middle of her 10:30 Chemistry of Magic class when she gets a text. 

**MG:** _ Check the bathroom in the north hall behind the witches’ dorms. _

**Hope: ** _ ??? _

**MG** :  _ Good luck. _

_ _

Hope doesn’t even bother to point out that they’re not really friends, because she’s busy standing up, blurting out some excuse to the professor, and darting out of the classroom, breaking into a jog as she heads for the dorms. When she reaches the bathroom, she pushes the door open cautiously, unsure what she’s about to run into. 

Penelope is gripping the edges of the sink so hard her knuckles are white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes angry and haunted, and she looks almost as dark and intimidating as everyone else believes her to be. She doesn’t look away from her own reflection when the door shuts behind Hope.

“Hope Mikaelson, here to save the day, right on schedule.” 

“Are you saying you need saving, Park?” 

“I’m saying fuck off.” 

Hope eyes her carefully from the side. “Your comebacks seem a little weak today.” 

“So sorry to disappoint.” Penelope’s words drip with sarcasm. 

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t think it’s any concern of yours.”

“Well, I’ll make it my concern.”

Penelope shakes her head in annoyance. “Not everything is a problem you can solve, Hope.” 

Hope rolls her eyes. “I get it. Your parents are here, you don’t get along, you’re gonna take it out on me. Just tell me what’s wrong first.” 

“Oh, you get it? You want some amazing tragic backstory, I’m sure. Well, we can’t all be Klaus Mikaelson’s miracle baby.” Penelope spits back at her. 

It hurts, but not because of the insult; Hope is no stranger to people who hate her, hate her father, her family, her legacy. It hurts because it’s Penelope, Penelope who has been irritating and annoying and a pain in the ass, but never, ever, cruel. Except for-

Except for that day before winter break, Hope remembers, and she understands exactly what’s going on. She props her hands on her hips. 

“What, you’re going to be a bitch to scare me away? Penelope, that’s like my standard move.” 

Penelope lets out a scoff that barely avoids being a sob. “I invented being a bitch. You wish you could be even half the bitch I am.” 

“I hate to say it, but Lizzie is a bigger bitch than you.” Hope tries to use the same humor that Penelope normally enjoys, but it’s not the right choice. 

“Oh my god, can you go without talking about Lizzie for two seconds?” And then Penelope finally turns away from the mirror, glaring. “Why are you even here? You know I’m using you, right?”

“Yeah, no shit.” Hope snaps back. “You’re using me and I’m using you. We’re using each other to not be lonely. What’s your point?”

“My point is you don’t need to be here, okay? So just leave me alone!”

Hope presses her lips into a thin line, trying to figure out what approach to take. “And what if I don’t?”

Penelope closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, before she pushes away the sink, rubbing briefly at her eyes before approaching Hope. Hope doesn’t even have time to ask what Penelope is doing before Penelope has her hands at Hope’s waist, pulling their bodies together. 

Penelope kisses her, hot and insistent, like she has something to prove. Hope is momentarily distracted, but she can taste the salt of tears on Penelope’s lips. She pulls back. 

“Penelope-” 

Penelope surges to her again, her hands sliding up Hope’s sides as she deepens the kiss, her hands fumbling at Hope’s belt. 

“Penelope!” Hope uses her strength, shoves her backward so they stumble apart.

Penelope glares at her, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. “That would’ve worked on a normal person.” 

Which like, is probably true, but not the point. “Pen… I’m not going to let you fuck me to try to distract me from you having emotions.” 

“Why not? That’s the only reason you hang out with me, right?”

Hope glares, doing her best to keep her temper in check even though Penelope knows just how to push her buttons. “You know that’s not true.” She catches one of Penelope’s hands with her own and softens her voice. “You know it’s not.” 

Penelope hangs her head and when she forces a laugh, it’s damp with tears. “Yeah, I know.” 

She lets go of Hope’s hand to drop to the floor, slumping down with her back against the wall, and that’s how Hope knows something is  _ really _ wrong, because the Penelope Park she knows wouldn’t be caught dead letting any part of herself touch a bathroom floor. 

Hope carefully lowers herself down next to Penelope and waits.

“Do you remember when we broke into Alaric’s office?”

Hope nods. Penelope inhales deeply, steadying herself, leaning her head against the cool tiles and closing her eyes. 

“We stole Alaric’s file with the contact information for my parents. I turned eighteen the following month and cut off all contact, so I thought if I got rid of Alaric’s way to talk to them, there would be no way for them to hear about me. Obviously I was wrong about that.” Penelope’s face twists in a scowl. There’s a pause where neither of them speak, and then Penelope kicks Hope in the ankle. 

“‘Why don’t you want to talk to them, Penelope?’” Penelope says in what apparently is supposed to be an imitation of Hope’s voice. 

“I didn’t know I was supposed to ask!” Hope kicks Penelope back, then relents. “Um, why don’t you want to talk to them, Penelope?” 

“Thank you for asking.” Penelope stretches out her hands like she’s preparing for a marathon, or a fight. She tilts her head from side to side, cracking her neck. “I suppose you had to hear my backstory eventually.” 

“I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to tell me.” 

Hope backtracks at Penelope’s glare. “Nevermind! Continue! I insist!” 

“Mhm.” Penelope uses one hand to manipulate the shadows and create a tiny figure in front of them, a younger Penelope made of shadows. 

“I’m from a very powerful coven. There’s four kids, but I’m the oldest.” 

Behind the shadow Penelope, two wisps of children appear and begin to wrestle, a third appearing nestled in younger Penelope’s arms. 

“And you know how witches are about birth order. So I was supposed to take over the coven. As soon as I was old enough, they started training me.”

The little Penelope figure spins through a montage of training: spells, books, long nights over a caldron. 

“And I did everything they asked. Because it was my duty, because to do otherwise would be  _ selfish _ .” Penelope twists the word, makes it sound ugly and dirty. “That’s why I don’t have to pay attention in class now- I already spent all that time training. I tried  _ so _ hard to be perfect for them. To be the perfect daughter. But it was never, ever enough, you know?” She laughs, cold and bitter. “I really thought… I thought I could do it all right, that I really could be as perfect as they wanted me to be.” 

Shadow Penelope performs a spell and the crowd around her cheers, her siblings running into her arms. From the side, a stern woman watches approvingly and Hope knows it must be Penelope’s mother; she has the same piercing eyes. 

Penelope waves her hand and the scene in front of them changes. 

“When I was 14, I started dating this girl.” 

The Penelope in front of them walks hand in hand with another figure. The real Penelope shoots Hope a wry look. “Don’t be jealous; she’s irrelevant now.” 

Hope doesn’t know how Penelope knew she’d felt a sudden pang of jealousy, so she just gives Penelope a look and gestures at her to continue. 

“We weren’t like, in love or anything. But it was the first time I’d ever had anything that was just mine, you know? Something not for my family or for the coven or anything.” Penelope sighs. “Of course, eventually they caught us together. They’d known all along, I guess. I was just a kid, I didn’t know…”

Hope remembers Penelope’s words from a previous conversation: “ _ You ever heard the saying ‘What you don’t know can’t hurt you’? It’s not true. _ ” 

Penelope laughs hollowly. “It wasn’t even the gay thing, if you can believe it. She just wasn’t from our coven, not right for the ‘Park Reputation’ or whatever. And they told me I had to end it.” 

Shadow Penelope stands cowed before both her parents. And as Penelope speaks, as the shadows shift, Hope can hear it, can imagine it as clearly as if she was there the day it happened. 

_ Penelope’s father, tall and dark, leaning over the desk. “After everything we gave you? After all we’ve done for you?!”  _

_ Penelope’s mother, her mouth twisted in disgust. “How could you be so selfish?!” _

_ And Penelope, young and slumped in the chair, eyes still blazing, refusing to cry. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Please, I didn’t know-“ _

_ The crack of the slap, as loud as a gunshot, Penelope cradling her cheek in the shocked silence. Penelope’s father turning his back on her, even as Penelope pleads with them to understand.  _

Penelope’s voice pulls Hope out of the flashback. “It wasn’t about the girl anymore, you know? It was about making my own choice. But it didn’t matter to them. What I wanted didn’t matter to them. All those fucking years of trying so hard to be what they wanted and for what?” She shakes her head, the ghost of a haunted smile curling at her lips. “Maybe it was just the last straw after years of being a disappointment, I don’t know.” 

Penelope waves her hand again and the shadows disappear. “We had this huge fight. Over something so small! And I refused to do what they said, so they made up this story about sending me to boarding school and sent me here. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my siblings.”

Hope’s heart aches for Penelope, for the pain in her voice, for how hard Penelope is trying to hide it. 

“So I got to Salvatore and I thought: ‘They want selfish? I’ll show them selfish.’ After all,” Penelope smiles a bitter, broken smile. “What did trying to be selfless get me? Nothing. I tried so hard to make other people happy and for what?” She smacks her palms on her thighs for emphasis and looks at Hope as if really expecting an answer. “For  _ what _ ? To still not be enough? To never be what they wanted? Fuck it. Might as well try to do what makes  _ me  _ happy.” 

Penelope shrugs like there aren’t tears in her eyes. “And for a while I was. With Josie. And then I realized she would.. she would always put Lizzie first. And I couldn’t take that. I couldn’t be not enough. Not again.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Normally, I’m sure I made the right choice. With my family. With everything. But I don’t know, sometimes.. Sometimes it all catches up with me.” Penelope gives her a plaintive, desperate look; it shows her grief so acutely, Hope is breathless with it. “You, more than anyone, should know. The way guilt hollows you out inside, the way you can miss people like a lost limb.”

And Hope nods because she does know, she can emphasize with that endless ache. 

“Anyway.” Penelope shrugs again, trying so hard to act casual. “Josie used to call me selfish. And she’s right.” Her voice hardens. “But the world needs the selfish. I needed to be selfish. Do you know what I mean?” 

She looks at Hope and for a second her mask drops; the depth of the despair in her eyes shocks Hope. “I tried doing what other people wanted, Hope. I would’ve given up  _ anything _ for them. And look where it got me. Fuck that. Why should I do what other people want and still lose it all? All the world does is take and take. Why shouldn’t I? I’d rather be selfish and have a chance at happiness.” 

Penelope exhales hard, as if she’s finally released a weight she’s been carrying. She’s never told anyone else about this, Hope realizes. She’s been holding this all alone. 

“I guess they’ve been trying to contact me for a while. They want me to come back, take over the coven, do exactly as they say. But I won’t.” Penelope shakes her head once. “I won’t.”

They fall into a silence. 

“So that’s that. Not very original, huh? Classic eldest daughter story, really. But like, my father isn’t  _ The Great Evil _ , so at least I have that going for me.” 

“To be fair, no one can out-trauma me,” Hope says and then pauses, because she knows Penelope isn’t going to take this well, but she’s not just going to let her be sarcastic to deter the conversation. “Pen, I’m sorry they treated you like that.” 

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I know there are a lot of bad people and bad things in life, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one of them. You don’t have to make yourself sharp and heartless to survive. You care so much about people and you act like you don’t because you’ve been burned before, but it won’t always be like that. You…” Hope struggles to find the right words. “You don’t have to pretend, Penelope. There will be people who love you for who you are. And you’re not selfish for wanting that.” 

There’s a pause where all Hope can hear is the dripping of a leaking sink. Then:

“That’s all you’ve got? I’m not selfish?” Penelope tilts so her head is pressed into Hope’s shoulder, muffling her voice. “Stick to heroics, your comforting needs work.” 

Hope can feel Penelope shake against her and for a second she thinks Penelope is laughing at her.

“Hey, I’m trying to-” 

Hope stops her retort when she realizes that Penelope isn’t laughing, she’s  _ crying _ , silently weeping against Hope’s shoulder, her tears dripping off her face and Hope’s shirt onto the tile below them. 

“Oh shit.” 

In all normal situations, Penelope’s presence commands attention; she can’t help but be noticed. 

But not like this- she’s so small as she cries, all her bravado stripped away, not even making a sound as tears fall. 

“Penelope, wait, don’t cry, wait-” Hope shifts so she can fold Penelope into her arms, smashing their knees together awkwardly on the floor, but desperate to offer some modicum of comfort. “It’s alright.” The harsh buzz of the fluorescent bathroom lighting rings in her ears and the cold tile beneath them burns. 

Penelope shakes her head over and over, although whether she’s disagreeing with Hope’s assessment of the state of things or unable to say what she wants to say, Hope isn’t sure.

“I’m sorry, okay, don’t cry, it’s okay!”

Penelope lets out a watery, choked sort of laugh against Hope’s shoulder. “Don’t panic, Mikaelson. Crying is cathartic. Just let me get it all out.” 

Hope nods, running her palms up and down Penelope’s back the way Penelope had done for her. She hates that there’s nothing else she can do for the woman in her arms; Hope would probably go fight the Parks if she thought it would help. 

After a few moments, Penelope sighs, pulling back and wiping her eyes. 

“Okay,” She claps her hands together as if they’ve decided something. She stands up abruptly and returns to the mirror, running a thumb under her eye to fix her mascara.

“Okay?” Hope hasn’t quite caught up with the sudden change in the mood. 

“Lunch is in 15 minutes,” Penelope says by way of explanation, and Hope extrapolates from that, knowing that Penelope means she can’t waste any more time crying here because people might see her. It makes something in Hope ache, knowing Penelope has planned out even the time she can allow herself to break down. 

Before Hope can come up with something halfway comforting, Penelope looks back at her with doe eyes. “Will you carry me back to your room?” she asks meekly.

“Are you using my sympathy to get me to do what you want?”

“Would I do something like that?”

“You absolutely would.” 

“Please?” Penelope sticks out her lip, and when that doesn’t work, bats her eyelashes. “Come on, like you don’t have some hero fantasy about carrying me out of danger anyway?” 

Hope almost falters. “Fine. Whatever.” 

Penelope gleefully loops her arms around Hope’s neck while Hope scoops her up, cradling her bridal-style while she treks back to her room. They’re lucky everyone else is still in class, because Hope really doesn’t know what she’d say if anyone asked them what they were doing. 

Hope sidles them through the doorway, kicking the door shut with her foot, and unceremoniously tosses Penelope onto the bed. 

“Careful, Hope. I am a delicate creature.”

Hope scoffs. “Yeah, delicate like a bomb.” She hesitates, because the last thing she wants is to make Penelope cry again, but she also needs to know that Penelope is safe. 

“Are your parents going to come back looking for you?”

Penelope scoffs. “No. I made it very clear I wasn’t going to listen to them and they made it very clear they never want to see me again unless it’s to apologize.” 

Hope sits down on the edge of the bed where Penelope is staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. Her phone vibrates and Hope looks down to see Alaric’s name flash on her phone, but she hits the lock button and turns it over. Fighting monsters can wait. She twists her hands in her lap. “I could help. If you ever want to go see your siblings.” 

“They wouldn’t let us.”

“I mean… how would they stop me?”

Penelope looks at her sideways. “What, you’re going to take on a whole coven?”

“Well, I am the Tribrid…” Hope says with fake cockiness, and it draws a little smile from Penelope, so Hope considers it a success. 

“Well, I appreciate the ‘Hope Mikaelson, Here to Help’ offer, but no. I’ll figure something out after graduation.” Penelope holds one hand out for Hope. “Now, do you have enough sympathy left to cuddle with me?”

Hope sighs loudly, but lays down all the same. “I can’t believe everyone thinks you’re not a softy.” She goes to take Penelope into her arms, but instead Penelope rolls on top of her and kisses her fiercely. Hope allows it for a few moments before she pulls back and pushes Penelope onto her side so she can hold her. 

“I’m not going to have sympathy sex with you, Penelope.”

Penelope sighs. “What if it would make me feel better?”

“Nope.”

“What about-”

“No drugs or alcohol.” 

“What, so you’re allowed to cope with illegal vices but I’m not??”

“Aren’t we supposed to be emotionally maturing?” Hope challenges.

“Ugh. I’ve done too well,” Penelope bemoans, rolling on the bed dramatically. 

“How about this? We can go sit on the roof and you can tell me your siblings.” It’s a gamble, really, because Hope doesn’t know if Penelope will just shut down, or push her away, or run. But her chest is tight with the need to protect Penelope, to keep her safe, and if she can’t fight the people who are hurting her, she can at least be there for her when they do.

Penelope looks at her for a long moment, Hope listening to the rise and fall of her breath, and then offers Hope a tentative smile. “Alright. Let’s do that.” 

So they go up on the roof and Penelope tells her about her brothers and her baby sister and every happy story she can remember about them. And if Penelope’s eyes occasionally well with tears, it’s easy enough for Hope not to mention it, instead teasing Penelope about her 5th grade haircut and the time the four Park siblings completely destroyed their kitchen. 

When Penelope trails off, lost in a memory, Hope slowly reaches over and tries to take her hand. Penelope looks at her blankly. 

“What… is happening right now?”

Hope huffs. “I’m trying to hold your hand, dumbass.” 

Penelope smirks. “Just wanted you to admit it.” 

Hope rolls her eyes, but Penelope intertwines their fingers and holds her hand tightly, so she’s not that annoyed. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Penelope whispers suddenly, the raw honesty in her voice weighing down her words. And Hope disagrees, obviously, but now isn’t the time to argue. She takes Penelope’s other hand and presses a kiss to the center of her palm, light as air. 

“Too bad. You have me.”

“Yeah?”

Hope nods and leans up to kiss her once more. 

* * *

Hope has faced a lot of terrible things, but nothing compares to this.

“Come on, Hope! We barely see you these days and I want my best friend and boyfriend to get along.”

Hope looks away from Lizzie and Josie’s pleading eyes. She may be over her more-than-crush on Lizzie, but that doesn’t mean she wants to spend any more time than necessary with Sebastian. It’s tough to come up with an excuse though, when she doesn’t have any other friends to claim she’s busy with. 

So Hope plays the only card she has. 

“I can’t because.. I already have plans with Penelope.” 

Which is a lie for sure, because Hope and Penelope never make plans; Penelope usually just shows up. But obviously the only other friends she has are sitting in this room right now, so her options are limited.

She can tell from the determined look in Lizzie’s eye that it’s not going to work.

“Do you? That’s convenient.” 

Hope doubles down. “Well, she gets really mad when I cancel on her, so.” She shrugs like there’s nothing she can do and prays Lizzie just accepts it.

Of course, that’s too much to ask for. 

Lizzie whips out her phone. “Fine.” 

“Wait, what are you-”

Lizzie hits the speaker button so all three of them can hear when Penelope answers. 

“... what do you want?” 

“Hey, Pen!” Lizzie says in a fake cheery voice. 

Everyone in the room waits to see how Penelope will respond to this. For a moment, there’s just static on the other side of the phone. 

“... Am I on speaker?” 

“Yes.”

“LIZ!” Penelope’s voice goes so high, Hope winces at the feedback. “So good to hear from you!”

Josie rolls her eyes. 

“Pen, it’s so funny,” Lizzie is flipping her hair as if she really is excited, “I’m here with Hope and we were  _ hoping _ that she would come to dinner with Sebastian and Josie and Landon and me,”

“Oh my gosh, Hope is always telling me how much she would love that!” 

Hope is going to kill Penelope, she really is.

“But,” Lizzie sighs theatrically, “she says can’t on Friday, because she has plans with you.” 

“With me?! Let me check.” 

They can actually  _ hear _ Penelope flipping pages near the phone as if she’s checking a fucking day planner or something. Hope rubs her temples in frustration. 

“Is this really necessary?”

Lizzie and Penelope both ignore her. 

“Hmm.” Penelope hums in disappointment and for a moment, Hope thinks she may be able to get out of this. “She’s right. We do have plans.”

Lizzie narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to argue, but Penelope continues before she can say a word.

“But there’s an easy solution to this.”

Oh god no. Josie and Hope look at each other with twin expressions of panic. 

“Hope and I can just go to dinner with you guys!”

“Absolutely not.”

“No way.” 

“A triple date!” Penelope continues, undaunted. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Hope is begging, pleading for Lizzie to call Penelope’s bluff. But she knows Lizzie won’t back down. 

“It would! Let’s say, this Friday, 7:30?”

“At the Mystic Grill?! Perfect!”

“See you there!!!”

“That settles that,” Lizzie says, looking pleased at her success as she hangs up the phone. 

Hope sighs. Maybe some monster will destroy the restaurant before Friday. 

-

Trailing behind Penelope, Hope enters the Mystic Falls Grill like she’s walking to the guillotine. Which, to be honest, would be preferable to this. 

“Hope. Penelope.” Josie says, glaring when they arrive at the table. 

“Satan.” Lizzie doesn’t even look away from Sebastian. “Hope.” 

Penelope looks highly amused at this entire turn of events. “Lizzie. Jojo.” 

Hope is realizing this was absolutely a mistake. She inclines her head. “Josie.” She swallows. “Lizzie.” 

“Sebastian.” 

Everyone turns to look at Landon in confusion. He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry. I was feeling left out.” 

“Pull out my chair for me.” Penelope whispers, low enough that only Hope catches it.

“What? Why?” 

Penelope elbows her in the side and Hope jolts into action, pulling out Penelope’s chair. With Penelope, Josie, and Lizzie on the other side of the table, Hope realizes she’s been grouped with Sebastian and Landon, which is not the way she’d like to be categorized. Also, sitting Penelope next to Lizzie kind of seems like a disaster waiting to happen. 

“So… how is everyone?” Landon asks in a valiant attempt to start a conversation. 

Lizzie and Penelope roll their eyes in unison, and the similarity is really making Hope realize that she has a type. 

They suffer through fifteen minutes of excruciating small talk before Penelope starts trying to communicate something to Hope through just eyebrow movement. Hope tries to convey back that she doesn't know what Penelope is saying. 

Penelope holds up her menu to create a makeshift wall between them and the other guests at the table. Hope casts a silencing spell so they can’t be overheard. 

“I hope you know this is the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

“It’s not a date!” Hope hisses. “And this is all your fault anyway! If you’d just said that we were busy, neither of us would have to be here right now!” 

“We both know I can’t resist the opportunity to annoy Lizzie Saltzman! Let’s just leave now!”

But Hope knows she has to stay for the rest of this terrible meal to appease Lizzie, so no way is she letting Penelope get out of it. “Are you saying you can’t do it?

This makes Penelope pause. “There’s nothing I can’t do, Hope.” 

“Prove it. If you leave this table, then you have to admit you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t last through one meal with them.”

Penelope narrows her eyes. “What if you leave first?” 

“I have a lot of practice dealing with boring men. And I have more patience than you.” 

“What do I get when I win?” 

“ _ If _ you win. What do you want?” 

For one, terrifying, thrilling moment, Hope thinks Penelope is going to say “go on a real date with me.” 

“Ahem.” Lizzie taps on the other side of the menu. “You guys know we don’t disappear just because you can’t see us, right?” 

Penelope folds up the menu with deadly precision, an anticipatory look in her eyes that makes Hope shiver. 

“Sorry about that. Please, continue.” 

That’s all Lizzie needs to launch into whatever she was talking about before. Hope isn’t sure why Penelope looks so eager to rejoin the rest of the table, but Hope is confident that she can outlast Penelope at this, so she’s not worried. 

When she feels the first touch, Hope jolts in her chair. She glances down at her lap, but there’s nothing there. She looks at Penelope and Penelope isn’t looking at her, but there’s a sly smirk on her lips that Hope knows means trouble. Penelope’s eye’s flicker down for a moment and that’s how Hope puts the pieces together. 

_ Where does Penelope even learn these spells? _

Her hands are clear and visible on the tabletop, but Penelope rubs her thumb in a circle motion on the wooden surface and Hope feels it as if Penelope’s hand is directly on her knee doing the same thing. Every motion Penelope makes, Hope can feel as if her hand is right there. 

Hope alternates between giving Penelope a death glare and trying to act like she’s paying attention to Josie’s story about when she and Landon went bird watching or something. It’s difficult, though, when Penelope’s phantom touch is skating along her hips, just edging under her shirt before disappearing. She knows she needs to keep her breathing under control, but her body does not seem to have received the message, given how suddenly she’s turned on and wet. 

“Fascinating.” Penelope nods along to the discussion, her chin propped in one hand. With the other hand, she drags her nails along the tabletop and Hope feels it from her knee to the inside of her thigh. She bites her lip hard and tries to think boring, calm thoughts as Penelope repeats the motion. 

Penelope’s fingers brush the edge of her underwear and then everything on the table rattles when Hope’s foot slams into the bottom of it. A glass of water spills into Landon’s lap. 

Lizzie looks suspiciously at Penelope. “What was that?” 

Penelope holds up both hands in feigned innocence. 

“Sorry,” Hope mutters. She was trying to kick Penelope in the shins, but whatever. For a moment, the touches subside and Hope honestly isn’t sure if she’s relieved or disappointed. She glances down at Penelope’s hands just in time to see Penelope put two fingers together and stroke-

“OKAY!” Everyone looks at Hope in confusion when she shouts and stands up abruptly. “I’ll be right back!” 

Hope knows this means she loses the bet, but if she stays at the table any longer, she’s afraid she might jump the table and kiss Penelope in front of everyone. 

Distantly, she hears Penelope say, “She wasn’t feeling well earlier. I think she’s been working too hard! I’ll go check on her.” 

Hope shoves her way into the bathroom at the back of the restaurant and twists the sink on, splashing her face with stale tap water. “Jesus Christ.” She’s really got to stop trying to beat Penelope at seduction-related challenges (she’s never going to stop trying to beat Penelope at seduction-related challenges, it’s too much of a thrill). 

Hope hears Penelope walk up to the bathroom door and then pause, and Hope isn’t sure why, until she hears another voice. 

“Penelope, wait.” 

It’s Josie. 

Hope hears Penelope take one controlled breath before she turns back around to Josie. Hope listens to their footsteps and then slides out of the bathroom, hiding behind a pole so she can hear the conversation. 

“Hey, Jos.” 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Penelope shifts uneasily. “If you’re going to yell at me for spending time with Hope-”

“I’m not,” Josie reassures. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”

“You mean, since you agreed with Lizzie that I’m evil?” 

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I do know. That makes it worse. You always just…” Penelope shakes her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” 

Josie sighs. “I don’t want to fight with you.” 

“You know I’m never going to be happy with how you always put Lizzie first. But I also know that’s none of my business.” Penelope shrugs. “So, as long as you’re happy…”

Josie nods. “I am. And… you seem happy too.” 

God, what Hope would give to be able to see Penelope’s face right now. 

“Yeah, well.” Penelope shrugs again. “The sex is really good.” 

Josie huffs with exasperated fondness. “Alright.” She gently puts one hand on Penelope’s shoulder and Penelope doesn’t even flinch. “I really am sorry that we didn’t work, Penelope.”

“I’m sorry too. I know I didn’t exactly make things easy, after the break up.” 

“We both made mistakes. And.. You need someone who challenges you, someone who’s as…” Josie is looking at Penelope softly, knowingly. “Someone who’s as intense as you.” 

“We’re not…” Penelope shakes her head. “You know she doesn’t do commitment. Or caring, or any of that.” 

Hope almost steps out of her hiding place when she realizes they’re talking about her. This is what happens when everyone in the friend group is gay. You end up hiding in the Mystic Falls Grill bathroom listening while the girl you’re currently sleeping with gets her blessing from the girl she used to be in love with who also had a crush on you at one point. They really need to make more friends. 

Before Hope can do anything about that ridiculousness, Lizzie shows up. 

Lizzie taps Josie on the shoulder. “You go back to the boys. I’ll handle this.” 

Josie gives Penelope one last soft look before making her way back to the tables. 

Penelope rolls her eyes and holds up one hand to stop Lizzie. “Listen, Elizabeth, if you’re here to yell at me-”

Lizzie knocks her hand away. “No,  _ you _ listen, Park. If you hurt Hope Mikaelson, all the magic on Earth will not be enough to protect you from my wrath. Do you understand?” 

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in me reminding you that Mikaelson and I are not dating?”

Lizzie scoffs. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“I wasn’t aware you had any intelligence to insult.” 

Lizzie exhales hard and closes her eyes to regain her composure. “Look, you may have the others fooled, and maybe even Hope too, but I can see the way you look at her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Penelope’s voice has taken on a dangerous edge. 

“Don’t I?” 

“So  _ now _ you know what it looks like when someone likes someone?” 

Hope doesn’t know what that’s supposed to imply, but Lizzie must, because her face darkens and the conversation turns into hushed whispers that Hope can’t quite catch, both women leaning towards each other with dark looks on their faces. 

Finally, they both pull back. 

“You’re a mess, Park.”

“You’re one to talk.” 

There’s a long moment of glaring. 

“Fine!” Lizzie breaks first, throwing her hands up in the air. “Whatever! Good luck!” 

Hope still isn’t clear on what exactly has just transcribed between the two, but Penelope seems begrudgingly pleased as Lizzie trudges back to the table. 

Penelope leans back against the brick and sighs, closing her eyes. 

Hope is contemplating sneaking back to the bathroom and coming out as if she’s been in there the whole time when Penelope speaks. 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.” 

Goddamn it. “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt the heartfelt moments.” 

Penelope opens one eye to peer at her when Hope steps out sheepishly from her hiding place. “Mhm.”

“Will you at least admit that this dinner was a bad idea?” 

“The worst idea! I don’t know why you forced me into it!”

“I forced you?! Ohh no,” Hope shakes her head as she walks up to grab Penelope’s hands and pull her off the wall, “this was all you!”

“Hopeeee!” Penelope swings their hands between them, pleading. “Let’s just sneak out the back. They won’t even miss us.” 

“Nope. We’re gonna go back to dinner and sit through the rest of Landon’s excruciatingly boring story about the dentist or whatever he was talking about.”

“But there are so many other things we could be doing with our free time,” Penelope husks, stepping forward and slipping one hand into Hope’s back pocket. 

Hope keeps her gaze resolutely over Penelope’s shoulder to avoid getting distracted. “You got us into this, so you have to stay and suffer. And then you’re going to come run laps with me because you owe me one for this.”

Penelope has that glint in her eyes. “You’re forgetting I won our little competition at the table.” 

Hope’s shiver of anticipation is completely involuntary. 

Penelope tilts her head to catch Hope’s lips with her own, their mouths fitting together like they’re meant to be-

“YOU BETTER NOT BE MAKING OUT BACK THERE!” Lizzie yells from across the restaurant.

Hope drops her head onto Penelope’s shoulder with a sigh. “I hate having friends.”

Penelope pats her on the shoulder sympathetically. “Sure you do, babe. Sure you do.” 

* * *

It’s really inconvenient, how many monsters have been showing up around Salvatore lately. 

Hope collapses onto the bed face down. She sighs in relief, her muscles finally able to relax, the tension leaking out of her. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.” 

She’s just returned from another fight with a creature Alaric didn’t think existed. 

She hears the bedsprings creak as Penelope perches on the edge. “We don’t have to have sex.” 

Hope’s voice is muffled. “What else would we do?” 

“We used to hang out without having sex.” Penelope reminds her, and Hope isn’t sure if she’s imagining the pang of hurt in Penelope’s voice or not. 

“Yeah, but you’re much more tolerable with your clothes off,” Hope mutters against the blankets. 

“Shut up.” Penelope rolls Hope to the side so she can settle next to her on the bed. “We’ll just watch a movie or something.” 

Hope feels her heartbeat speed up the way it has been a lot lately, every time Penelope and Hope end up doing something suspiciously couple-like. 

Then they’re watching a movie on her laptop and Hope’s heart is  _ still _ beating rabbit-quick. Penelope keeps absentmindedly running her thumb over Hope’s knuckles, and it’s incredibly distracting, although Hope isn’t sure if that’s even Penelope’s intent. Even worse, Hope is struggling to repress the urge to take Penelope’s hand and kiss each of her fingertips, one by one. 

“We should go do something,” Hope says suddenly, propelled by the need to distract herself from her disgustingly tender thoughts. 

Penelope hits pause and looks at her, bemused. “What?”

“Let’s go do something,” Hope repeats, hopping off the bed and tugging Penelope with her. 

“I thought you were tired?” 

“Well, now I’m not.” Hope tries to think of somewhere new they can go. Penelope’s not the only one who can come up with random activities. “Are you coming?”

Penelope grins. “I’d follow you anywhere, Hope Mikaelson.” 

And Hope really can’t tell if she’s kidding or not. 

-

Penelope puts her hands on her hips while she surveys the scene. “Maybe I  _ am _ a bad influence on you.” 

Hope sticks her tongue out at her and then sinks until only her eyes remain above the water, a clear challenge in her eyes. 

Hope’s clothes lay where she tossed them, in a heap by the edge of the pool. She’s not sure what possessed her to bring Penelope out here, but with only a month and a half left in the school year, Hope’s not overly concerned with getting in trouble. 

Penelope steps out of her flats and strips off her shorts. “What’s your plan if Alaric catches us out here?” She tosses her shirt into the pile. 

Hope pushes off the ground and swims into the deep end. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” 

“Oh, I see how it is.” Penelope delicately puts one toe in the water, shuddering before reluctantly making her way into the pool. 

Hope is trying very hard to keep her face neutral, but she must give something away, because Penelope glares at Hope as she holds her arms up out of the water, still not used to the temperature. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Think about what?” Hope asks innocently, propping her elbows up on the side of the pool. The eerie green lighting of the pool casts an unreal glow over the scene, so it’s easy for Hope to pretend that this moment is suspended from reality, that she can act without consequences. 

“Do not splash me, Hope Mikaelson. The wrath I will unleash on you-”

The rest of Penelope’s threat is drowned by the wave of water Hope sends her way. Penelope splutters when she comes back to the surface. “Goddamn it. Maybe the Mikaelsons really  _ are  _ evil.”

And truthfully, anyone else making that joke would have Hope on edge, but maybe the fact that no one else would dare is what makes it okay, because it’s just so… Penelope. 

“Oh, the powerful Penelope Park, so easily defeated…” Hope drawls. 

“You asked for this,” is all Penelope says ominously, and then she sinks down into the water and disappears.

“Oh shit.” Hope pushes off the wall and makes for the shallow end, but she’s too late. She feels something touch her ankle and her shriek is cut off as Penelope, invisible in the water, tugs her under the surface. Hope twists out of Penelope’s grip, her breath escaping her in bubbles as she laughs. Penelope reappears as they push back the surface, wrapping her arms around Hope’s shoulders instead of swimming. Hope wraps one arm around Penelope’s waist to hold her up, Penelope’s legs automatically bracketing her hips, and when they pop out of the water, Hope only has a second to suck in a breath of air before Penelope is kissing her. 

Penelope tastes like chlorine and lipstick, like sin and desire and danger. She tastes like  _ Penelope _ and that has somehow become Hope’s favorite taste. She moans Penelope’s name into her mouth, and Penelope drags her teeth over Hope’s lower lip in response, and then the kiss breaks because Hope loses her concentration, forgetting she’s holding them up in the water and spluttering as her head suddenly dunks underwater. 

By the time Hope reorients herself in the water and swims back to the shallow end, Penelope is lounging on the steps and laughing at her. 

“Very smooth, Hope. Very smooth.” 

It’s honestly unfair, how borderline erotic she looks, water dripping down her tanned skin, her eyes bright in the glow from the pool lighting. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Penelope’s smirk is horribly smug, like she knows exactly what Hope is thinking. “Keep it together, Mikaelson. This was your idea.” 

Hope floats closer, unable to drag her eyes away and speaks without thinking, to distract from the flush on her cheeks.

“We should’ve gone swimming. At the beach.”

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “In December? I know you’ve got your Tribrid constitution, but I would’ve frozen.”

Hope breathes in, floating there in the water, and says her next thought despite the instinct to swallow it deep and forget it. “Next time, then.” 

To most, it would come off as nothing more than a passing comment. But Hope knows Penelope will hear it, the implication of a time in the future, of a future  _ together _ . 

Penelope smiles wide, so pretty Hope can’t help but lean in and kiss her. 

“Next time,” Penelope agrees. 

The intimacy of the moment feels huge and overwhelming. But instead of struggling and fighting against it, Hope lets herself sink into it, allowing herself to be enveloped by pure adoration and  _ yearning _ that radiates off Penelope, only detectable when Hope is this close. 

Their bodies slide together in the cool water, skin against skin, and the sensation is so pleasant, Hope’s head spins. The impulse, the  _ yearning _ to tell Penelope, to confess how she feels, swells in Hope like an unstoppable wave. 

When she opens her mouth to say it, Penelope speaks first. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Penelope asks.

Hope almost laughs out loud. “No. I think this world is too cruel to have anything as pure as a love like that.” 

Hope can feel the stretch of Penelope’s lips as she grins against her neck. All others, she assumes, would be heartbroken at her words. But not Penelope- Penelope knows exactly what she means. 

“Then what are we?” Penelope’s whisper is sly, coy, even, but Hope knows her too well now to be stumped by questions like this. 

“I’m your punishment,” Hope says plainly, tugging at Penelope’s hair to bring her back to her lips.

They kiss for so long, Hope has almost forgotten the conversation. But Penelope drags herself away, all tousled hair and bedroom eyes, and whispers back: “And I’m  _ yours _ .” 

And Hope knows exactly what she means. 

* * *

April is just coming to an end when everything goes wrong. 

Hope doesn’t even see it coming. 

She enters Penelope’s room with a smile. They’ve both got no plans tonight and Hope is planning to lure Penelope into going for a run with her. Penelope isn’t back yet, but Hope spends so much time here at this point that she has no problem settling down at Penelope’s desk. 

She goes to clear a space on the surface and her eye catches on the letterhead of one of the papers. Hope picks it up. 

_ Dear Ms. Park,  _

_ We are delighted to notify you of your acceptance to Georgetown University’s Class of 2034. On behalf of _

Hope is still standing there, frozen, when Penelope’s door opens. 

“Hey Mikaelson, sorry I’m late, MG wanted to-”

Penelope stops short when she sees the paper in Hope’s hands. All the color drains from her face and Hope can hear her heart start to race. 

“What are you doing?”

Hope blinks, pulling her gaze to Penelope. “What is this?”

Penelope's expression shifts, just a little, and then she opens her mouth to speak, but Hope interrupts. 

“And don’t bullshit me.”

Penelope closes her mouth, considering her words, then says, voice flat: 

“You can read. You know what it is.” 

Hope curls her hands into fists, crumpling the paper in her grip. “You told me you only applied to colleges in New York and California.” 

“I did.” Penelope nods and Hope can see her brain whirling, trying to decide her next move, how to defuse the situation. “It was a last minute decision. It doesn’t- It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Penelope.”

“I’m not.” 

“Fine.” Hope swallows hard, the panic threatening to choke her. She can feel it pulsing through her blood, every part of her on alert. “It doesn’t mean anything? Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t apply to this school to stay close to me.”

There’s a heartbeat of absolutely excruciating silence. 

Penelope licks her lips. “Hope, I-”

“Tell me. Say it.” Hope demands, hating the way her voice trembles. 

Penelope shuts her eyes for a moment as if gathering strength, then attempts to direct the conversation away. “It was just an application, Hope. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” 

“It’s not  _ just _ an application, Penelope!” Hope waves the incriminating evidence in the air. “This is an acceptance letter. You got in. To a school just outside of Virginia. Which means… which means..”

“Which means I’d only be an hour away from Mystic Falls.” Penelope finishes the sentence for her, draws them closer to the conclusion that Hope is trying desperately to avoid. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take the offer.” 

“But you’re considering it.” Hope says, not a question, and Penelope doesn’t bother to deny it. 

She rubs at her forehead, looking pained. “Would that really be such a bad thing?” 

“Yes, it would, Penelope!” Hope tosses the papers down and starts to pace. “You know I don’t want anyone to get attached to me, you know I don’t want to care about anyone, you can’t just… you can’t just do this!” 

“I can’t make my own decisions?” Penelope asks, refusing to just accept it the way Hope wishes she would. “You’re the one who thinks she doesn’t have a future, not me.” She crosses her arms, watching Hope pace another lap across the room. 

“You can’t tie your future to ME!” Hope exclaims, throwing her hands out for emphasis. “You can’t! You’re not supposed to care about me, Penelope, and I’m not supposed to care about you!”

“But you do care.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in Penelope’s voice, a whisper of uncertainty. Like she isn’t actually sure of the statement. 

“No, I don’t!” 

Penelope’s lower lip trembles even as she locks her jaw, but Hope won’t look at her. “So you have no problem with the fact that when we graduate in a month, I’m going to move across the country and we’ll never see each other again?”

Hope flinches as if she’s physically repelled by the words. “That’s not… it doesn’t matter.” 

Penelope runs a hand through her hair, her frustration leaking into her voice. “Hope, I’ve tried to give you time. I know, okay, I  _ know _ you’re scared, but I also know that you feel something for me! Can’t you just admit that? Can’t you admit that the thought of us being apart hurts?”

“There is no ‘us’, Penelope!” Hope shouts, the fight or flight instincts welling up inside her, the fear exposed to the surface. She was a fool to think she could avoid this. She can feel the story speeding to its conclusion, the confrontation inevitable. “There isn’t… please don’t do this.” She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. It’s much, much worse than their last fight. That had been about pushing each other away, about denial. This… this is about everything that’s been building between them for months. 

“I just need to know I’m not alone, Hope. I can’t be the only one who’s trying. I just need… I need to know you’re in this too.” 

“You can’t always get what you want, Penelope! You can’t just expect me to change like that, okay? That’s not how life works! I can’t just overcome a life of trauma because you want me to!” In a perfect world, Hope would tell Penelope what she so desperately wants to hear. She would spill her soul to Penelope, she would make progress on her issues every day in a straight line upwards. But this is real life and it’s never that easy. 

“Fine.” Penelope exhales slowly to calm herself down. She doesn’t even look angry, she just looks completely, utterly heartbroken. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me. Tell me you don’t care what happens next month. Tell me and I’ll go.”

She knows what Penelope wants her to say, and she also knows she can’t say it. Hope swallows.

“I can’t. But I…” Hope presses her nails into her palms and forces herself to continue, forces herself to damn it all, to ruin it. “I just… I just need some space, I think.”

Penelope looks at her for a long moment, waiting. Hope says nothing more, avoiding her gaze. 

“Okay.” Penelope says hollowly, defeated. “Okay.”

Hope turns and leaves the room and Penelope doesn’t stop her.

* * *

Hope’s never really considered herself one to wallow in self-pity, but there’s no other term to describe her actions for the following week. 

She has to go to class because finals are next week, but she spends them in a haze. She keeps replaying their argument- was it even an argument? it had none of the harsh words and bitter tones of their fight before winter break- over and over in her mind, but she can’t think of anything that she could’ve said differently. 

Every time she closes her eyes, Hope sees the look of absolute heartbreak on Penelope’s face and it hits like a dagger to the heart. Obviously Hope doesn’t want to hurt her. But why can’t Penelope understand that Hope caring about her  _ is _ what will get her hurt? That Hope breaking her heart now is the better alternative to Penelope dying and it being Hope’s fault?

Somehow, knowing it’s the right thing to do doesn’t make it any easier. Hope finds herself doing all the cliche things she never thought she’d do, like thinking the bed feels too big without Penelope in it, and doodling little sketches of Penelope on the sides of her papers. 

It really pisses her off, because she’s only even known Penelope for less than a year, so Hope shouldn’t feel her absence so acutely. But maybe falling for someone doesn’t have a defined timeline. Maybe Hope has been ignoring the way the feelings have been building up between them for months. Maybe this was inevitable. 

She just doesn’t know what to do. Every time Hope thinks about tracking Penelope down and trying to explain things, she falters. Because she can only see this ending in two ways: a break up, even though they were never dating, or…

Or something Hope can never allow herself to have. Because she can’t put Penelope in danger like that, she just can’t. 

When Hope hears the knock on her door Saturday night, she trudges over to it with reluctance. Whatever Alaric needs, surely he can face it without her for one night? 

“Lizzie?”

“Hey, Mikaelson,” Lizzie says, no nonsense as she pushes her way into Hope’s room, followed by Josie. Hope doesn’t have the strength to argue, so she just mutely closes the door behind them and stands there while they sit on her bed. 

“I’m not really in the mood-”

“We’re here to get you back with Smaug.”

Hope looks at her blankly. 

“With Penelope!” Lizzie says, exasperated. “You can’t just mope in here and expect her to forgive you.” 

Hope isn’t sure which part to address first. “How do you know it was me who did something wrong?” 

“While I hate to give Park the benefit of the doubt ever, we all know you’ve got that self-sabotage thing going on. Also, Penelope has been walking around looking like someone kicked her puppy, so.” 

“It’s not-” Hope runs her hands through her hair, frustrated. “I’m not self-sabotaging. I can’t just overcome all of my issues just because she wants me to, okay? And maybe it’s better this way, anyway. She’s safer not caring about me.” Hope’s voice is not as sure as she’d like it to be. 

Lizzie scoffs. “First of all, you don’t get to be all “It’s too dangerous to be with me, I should leave her”. Like what is this, the lesbian version of Twilight?”

“Penelope is bi.” 

Lizzie throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. “That’s not- whatever. My point is Penelope is a big girl. She can decide for herself if she thinks it’s too dangerous to be with you.” 

“You have to decide if  _ you  _ want to be with her. And if you don’t think you can, that’s okay.” Josie says gently. “But you have to tell her either way. She hates not knowing.” 

“I mean, it’s not like she’s asking you to propose-”

“Although she’d probably say yes if you did..” Josie muses. 

Lizzie looks unimpressed with that. “-right? What happened, she finally ask you on a date or what?” 

“She applied and got into Georgetown,” Hope says despondently, sinking into her desk chair. When they look at her blankly, she elaborates: “It’s only like an hour from Mystic Falls. So we could date after we graduate, hypothetically.”

Josie looks surprised. “I thought you’d just move to wherever she went to college, to be honest.”

Hope is half a second from throwing things in frustration. “Have you all lost your minds?! She can’t just- we can’t just- we’ve only known each other for like, nine months!”

“That’s like six years in wlw time, to be fair.” 

Hope buries her hands in her hands.

“ANYWAY,” Lizzie says loudly, “no one is expecting you to get over all your trauma. But you can’t just let it ruin, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, what you guys have.”

“But you hate her,” Hope points out.

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Park and I will never get along. But she clearly makes you happy, and you deserve that, so. Whatever. I can tolerate her. For your sake.” 

“So what are you saying? I should go tell her I want to be with her forever? That’s absurd.”

“We’re saying you should give her a chance, Hope. That’s all. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.” 

Josie beckons Hope over from the desk, so Hope trudges over to sit between the twins on the bed, leaning her head on Lizzie’s shoulder and taking Josie’s hand. 

“I’m scared,” Hope says quietly. 

“That’s okay too. You just have to decide if she’s worth facing that fear.”

“Now, get up,” Lizzie says briskly. “We’ll help you pick out an outfit. And do something about your hair.” 

-

This is why Hope never goes to parties. 

It’s too loud and everyone is too drunk, a crush of bodies and sweat and heartbeats that threaten to overwhelm Hope’s powerful senses. She grits her teeth and weaves her way through the crowd, her eyes looking for one person only. 

And then: there’s Penelope, leaning against a wall and looking as casually cool as ever, surrounded by a group of admirers. She’s staring out over the crowd, her expression blank. Something in Hope settles, just seeing her from across the room after a week of her absence. 

As Hope watches, one of the girls in the group around her tries to catch Penelope’s attention. The vampire- Hope doesn’t even remember her name, honestly, she’s that irrelevant- puts her hand on Penelope’s arm and laughs as she tells Penelope something. Hope feels a growl building in her throat. Her hands curl into fists on instinct and she tears her eyes away from the scene. 

“Fuck this,” Hope mutters. She slams her crushed cup down on the counter next to her and shoves her way through the pulsing crowd as quickly as she can. She steps around another wayward couple and pushes out the door onto the darkened porch. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Somehow Penelope is perched on the porch railing, wearing that infuriating knowing look when Hope halts her storm out at the sound of her voice. She stares at the witch. 

“How did you know I was here?”

Penelope hops down with far more grace than anyone who’s had three cups of the spiked punch should have and waltzes into Hope’s personal space. “You think I don’t notice the moment you step into a room?” 

Hope huffs, bad mood not yet forgotten. She will not be charmed by Penelope’s lines. “Whatever. Shouldn’t you be off with your admirers?” 

“Why would I need them when I have you and your charming ways?”

“I’m leaving,” Hope says, a statement and a reminder to herself. 

Penelope nods coolly. “Yeah, you’re good at that.” 

Hope winces. “That’s not fair.”

“I’ve never claimed to play fair.” 

The noise of the party swells for a moment before dropping again to a distant murmur, background music for the more immediate drama playing out here on the porch. Hope studies Penelope’s forced-casual posture. If Hope had less pride, perhaps she would apologize at this moment. 

“Well, if you wanted someone to play with, it looked like there’s plenty of women in there who would volunteer.” 

The obvious jealousy in Hope’s tone brings out Penelope’s smirk. She steps closer, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “And what about you, Hope Mikaelson? Is there a reason you came here tonight?” 

_ I was looking for you. I miss you _ . is on the tip of Hope’s tongue, but she swallows it. She fakes a shrug of nonchalance instead. “Just wanted to see if I was missing anything.” 

Penelope takes another step closer. “And? What’s the verdict?” 

Hope blinks rapidly, trying to hold on to her anger in the face of Penelope’s charm. “There’s… nothing here that interests me.” 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying?”

“Yeah? You think you’re the only one paying attention?” Hope tosses back, incensed again. “You think you’re the only one who… who…” 

“Who what?” Penelope’s eyes are very dark, although from lust or anger, Hope isn’t sure. “Who what, Hope?” 

Hope grits her teeth, swallowing back the feelings that threaten to reveal themselves. She changes topics to the real reason she came here. “Look, you can’t change where you go to college for me, okay? You can’t. You know I don’t have a future.” 

“But you could.”

“With you?” Hope means to say it cruelly, but it comes out desperate and aching. A plea. 

Penelope smiles, a hollow shell of her true smile, her hands undoing the top button of her shirt. “Yes. Don’t you want me, Hope?” 

Hope narrows her eyes. “Are you displaying your neck  _ on purpose _ ?!” 

Penelope swallows and undoes another button on her shirt. Hope takes an automatic step backward. Her eyes flick down for just a second and she immediately flinches. Penelope grins in victory. 

“Hope,” Hope curses internally because Penelope is using her smooth, seductive voice, which Hope always thinks  _ should _ sound ridiculous, but actually never fails to make Hope’s heart race. “You know I’m not sleeping with anyone else, right?”

“I don’t care if you are.”  _ Liar _ . 

Penelope hums. “I think you do care. That’s why you like marking me. You want them to see the hickies and know that I belong to you, don’t you?” 

And like, obviously it’s demeaning and wrong to say she wants to  _ own _ anyone, Penelope is her own person and Hope would never claim otherwise, but she can’t really disguise the way her body reacts to Penelope’s words. 

Because while the feminist, logical part of Hope knows she shouldn’t want to claim someone as hers, and the afraid of commitment part of her would never agree to such responsibility, the primal part of her doesn’t care about any of that. That part of Hope just wants everyone to know that Penelope is  _ hers _ and that they can’t have her. Hope thinks of anyone else touching Penelope and barely stops another growl from leaving her throat. 

“That’s not true.” Her voice betrays her desire. 

Penelope takes another step forward. “Then why are you so mad when other people flirt with me?” 

“I’m not. You don’t belong to me.” She has to force the words out. 

“Really?” Penelope shrugs, turning back towards the party. “Okay, well, that Katrina girl from Mystic Falls Community College invited me back to her dorm, so I’m going to-”

“Penelope!” Hope barely recognizes her own voice, it’s so low and gravely, as she spins Penelope back around to face her, pulling her towards her so there’s no space between them. 

“Yes?” Penelope looks coy, but she can’t quite disguise the way her pupils have blown wide with lust at Hope’s actions. 

“You can’t just…”

“What? You’re mad when I do care, you’re mad when I don’t…” Penelope runs her hand along Hope’s collarbone, leaving goosebumps. 

“You drive me crazy,” Hope mutters hoarsely, her eyes flicking over Penelope’s features, drinking her in like she thought she’d never see her again. She doesn’t want to fight anymore; she just wants to be with her. 

“Would it really be so bad?” Penelope asks, her voice quiet, in sharp contrast to the thrumming crowd only a few feet away. “The chance of a future with me?” 

Hope sucks in a breath, the night air cool at the back of her throat. “I’ve lost so many people, Penelope. I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t.” 

“You can’t promise that.” 

“You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“It’s not that. I’m a  _ Mikaelson _ .” 

“I’ve always known who you are.”

Hope shakes her head. “You don’t understand. Don’t you want a normal life, someone who can actually go to college with you and do all the normal things that people do? I can’t give you that!” Hope tries to step away, but Penelope holds her close, her gaze burning. 

“Don’t you think I know that?? I know you’re always going to be Hope Mikaelson, I know there will always be monsters to fight and mystical artifacts to hunt down and strange curses to break. I’m not asking you to give that up, I’m not asking you to settle down and be someone you’re not. Just… let me be by your side, let me go to battle with you. Let me help you save the world.” 

“Why! Why would you want that?! Why would you…” Hope trails off, desperate and searching, but Penelope just smiles, tinged with resignation. 

“You know why, Hope.”

Hope looks off to the side, biting her lip, and makes a decision. Hope, who never asks anyone for anything, who never needs anyone’s help, looks Penelope in the eyes and asks for what she wants.

“Make me forget that I’m Hope Mikaelson, just for tonight. Just let me be with you. No legacies, no complications. Just us. Please.”

The smoldering affection in Penelope’s eyes blazes and shifts to desire. Penelope snaps her fingers (it’s not part of the spell, she’s just dramatic) and they’re in Penelope’s room. Another hand movement and the door is locked, the walls soundproofed. Then Penelope kisses her, licks into her mouth with a single minded determinedness that makes Hope’s knees weak.

“Penelope…” 

“Shut up. Let me take care of you, baby.” 

So Hope shuts up, kissing Penelope hard as they stumble to the bed, discarding each other's clothes as they go. Penelope shoves Hope onto the bed and crawls up to meet her, her breasts dragging along Hope’s body, making her shiver. 

Hope inhales sharply as Penelope bites at the sensitive spot at the base of her throat, sucking so hard that Hope knows there will be a bruise tomorrow, and the thought of everyone seeing it and knowing it was Penelope’s doing sends a rush of heat through Hope’s body. Penelope’s hands are sliding all over Hope’s body, scraping her nails over Hope’s abs and then brushing her palms over Hope’s breasts until Hope fists one hand in her hair and drags Penelope up to kiss her. In response, Penelope cups one breast and squeezes, making Hope keen into her mouth.

Hope can’t help the half-moans and noises that are spilling from her mouth as Penelope lavishes attention on her breasts, one hand twisting her nipple between two lithe fingers, her mouth at the other breast, sucking her nipple between her teeth. Hope is completely lost to the sensations, her nails digging into Penelope’s back and writhing underneath her as every touch sends little jolts of pleasure through her body. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” Hope doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, unable to form sentences or think of words that aren’t curses. It’s inconceivable how good Penelope makes her feel. Hope feels wired, electric, her whole body thrumming with heat and pleasure, her mind empty of everything but this precise moment. 

“You’re so hot, Hope,” Penelope mutters as she kisses down her chest and across her stomach. “You’re so good, baby.” 

Hope whines at her words, her hips pitching upward, searching for pressure against her aching cunt. She needs Penelope’s fingers desperately, but she’s holding back from asking because she knows Penelope is going to be smug about how wet she is. She shudders as Penelope presses hot, open mouthed kisses along her waist, just inches from where Hope needs her most. 

“Can I take these off?”

“Please!” 

Hope isn’t even annoyed by Penelope’s breathless chuckle against her hip, because then she’s finally pulling off Hope’s underwear and settling between her legs, hooking Hope’s leg over her shoulder and using one hand to hold Hope’s hips steady. Penelope kisses her way up the inside of her thighs, her breath ghosting over Hope’s dripping slit. Hope is shaking, vibrating with want, and still Penelope doesn’t touch her there. 

“Gonna tell me what you want?” Penelope murmurs from between her thighs, and of course, of course Penelope is going to make her beg. Hope would roll her eyes if she wasn’t otherwise occupied. 

“Just- fuck me already!” 

Penelope laughs, her nose brushing Hope’s curls, and then she licks a stripe up to Hope’s clit. 

Hope’s back bows off the bed, both hands gripping at the sheets as Penelope holds her hips down and laps at her clit. “FUCK!” 

Penelope is using the tip of her tongue to circle around and around Hope’s clit and the hot sensations of pleasure just keep building and building, like flames licking at her whole body, so intense and all-encompassing and Hope has never felt anything like this, the fucking unreal bliss that is increasing, building and building until-

Penelope pauses. 

Penelope pauses and looks up at her and Hope could almost come from that image alone: the impossibly heated, piercing gaze of Penelope’s hazel eyes framed by Hope’s thighs. 

“Say my name,” Penelope instructs, her voice low and full of desire. 

“I-”

“Say my name when you come,” Penelope repeats, and then she dips her head back down and redoubles her efforts, her tongue flicking over Hope’s clit while she slides two fingers in her. 

Hope never says Penelope’s name. It’s Hope’s own unspoken rule, to never say Penelope’s name during sex, because she  _ knows _ that Penelope will be able to hear the pure, unadulterated longing in her voice, because Hope knows she won’t be able to hide it. And not just the physical desire, but that she will hear how Hope wants her in every way, that she’ll hear Hope say Penelope’s name the way you say a lover’s name, like it belongs in her mouth.

But she can’t deny Penelope’s request, not when she asks her like that, and not when she’s making Hope feel indescribably good, and not when she wants Penelope to know, to hear this as much as Hope is. 

“Fuck, Penelope, oh my god, Penelope, please, fuck, please just, please I need you, fuck, fuck, fuck, Penelope-”

Penelope sucks her clit into her mouth just as she twists her fingers against that spot and Hope is gone, the waves of pleasure coursing through her body, her vision blacking out. 

When Hope floats back into the present, Penelope is laying next to her and grinning. Hope is limp and sated and has never felt more relaxed. She reaches out and trails her fingers along Penelope’s cheek. 

“Penelope, I…” Hope looks at her helplessly.

“I know. I know, Hope.” Penelope kisses her hard, a kiss full of meaning.

She kisses her like a promise. 

* * *

They spend the night fucking each other in some hungry, desperate way, with no holds bared, holding no emotion back. And it means something, of course it means something, and Hope is going to address it in the morning. 

Of course, then there’s no time to talk the next day because Hope wakes up to a call from Alaric and she has to spend the day with him hunting it through the woods outside of Mystic Falls. 

“I’m just saying, you don’t think we should do something else to be prepared?” 

Hope ducks to avoid the blow to her left side and fires a spell. 

“I agree that the last few months have been different, but,” Alaric is tied up against a tree, useless as usual, but at least he can talk. “It’s not like we can see the future. All we can do is look out for whatever comes next.” 

“Good thing we’re  _ always _ prepared.” Hope says sarcastically. She throws a knife from her hip to catch the beast in the shoulder. 

“Watch your side!” Alaric points out as the creature swings its staff and Hope drops to her knees and rolls to the left. 

“Anyway,” Hope starts as she gets up and moves back into a fighting stance, “do you know any good places to go on a date in Mystic Falls? And do not-” Hope holds up a hand to stop Alaric’s next words, “do not say Mystic Grill.” 

Alaric looks a little crestfallen. “What’s wrong with Mystic Grill?!”

The creature swipes at Hope’s shoulder, forcing Hope to stumble backwards. She turns to glare at it. 

“Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

It roars and charges at her. 

“Ugh, fine.” 

Hope blocks its next three blows, then lands a kick straight to its chest. As it stumbles, she spins around, twisting her leg to knock the monster to the ground, and then flips so she lands on top of it, calling her knife to her hand with a spell. 

The beast’s mouth opens in a wide, taunting smile that sends a shiver down Hope’s spine.

“Any last words?” Hope offers. She’s in a good mood, so. 

It laughs and laughs. “You will see... You will see.”

Hope rolls her eyes. “Always has to be ominous, huh?” And she plunges the knife into its chest. 

There’s a split second where Hope feels an overwhelming sense of unease, but it’s too late- the moment her blade pierces its skin, Hope’s eyes roll back in her head and she passes out.

-

The visions hit one after another, a whirlwind of scenes:

_ Hope, months ago, confronting a monster: “You're all coming after the same thing.” _

_ “If I return the knife to Malivore, I will be free.” _

_ Landon, confused: “What's Malivore?” _

_ “It's a hell dimension that consumes creatures and wipes their existence from the collective conscience.” The monster, grinning: “Three locks created to seal Malivore shut. When all three locks return home, Malivore is free to open its jaws of death once again.”  _

_ And then, in the future: _

_ The scene shifts to Alaric and the students, all gathered in the common room.  _

_ Alaric, pacing nervously: “All the creatures of Malivore are storming the school at once.” _

_ MG steps forward bravely. “We have to fight back! If they unlock Malivore, every supernatural creature on the planet is doomed. Including us!”  _

_ Penelope sighs. “A battle for the end of the world. Why does it always have to be a battle to determine the fate of the world?” _

_ And then: the battle.  _

_ Swarms of creatures, monsters, beasts, charming the school. All the students fighting back, witches, werewolves, vampires. MG, Kaleb, Penelope, Josie, Lizzie, all her friends, leading the charge. Hope, firing off spells, shifting from human to wolf, doing everything she can. She heals Josie with her blood, protects Rafael from a giant scorpion’s claw. An endless montage of fighting and spell and one monster after another. But suddenly, through all the noise, Hope hears a cry of pain, and she knows that voice- _

_ “Penelope!”  _

_ Josie and MG surrounding Penelope on the floor, a vicious bite on her arm. Hope runs over, ignoring the danger.  _

_ I’m fine!” Penelope insists. “You have to keep fighting!” _

_ Hope looks at Penelope, the resignation on her face.  _

_ “You know what this is.” Hope says suddenly. _

_ Penelope bites her lip. “... Yes. It was a camazotz. Their bite is poisonous. Your blood would have no effect.”  _

_ “What’s the antidote?” _

_ “We have to kill the one who inflicted the bite.” _

_ “So we’ll find it and we’ll kill it.” MG says desperately, hefting the sword he’s carrying.  _

_ “But we don’t know where it is!”  _

_ The school is chaos, and as Hope looks around, she realizes something: they’re losing.  _

_ “We’re losing,” Lizzie says morosely, wiping blood from her blouse.  _

_ The answer is so obvious.  _

_ Hope swallows. Isn't this always how it ends?  _

_ “I know what I have to do.”  _

_ “Absolutely not.” Penelope tries to push up from the ground and falls back when the pain is too much. Hope hasn’t even said her plan, but doesn’t Penelope always know? “Hope, you are not going to sacrifice yourself.”  _

_ “Well, I’m not going to let you die!” The plan is coming together in Hope’s mind. She can save the school, she can save all her friends, she can save Penelope.  _

_ If she closes Malivore, she destroys all the monsters too.  _

_ Everyone will be safe. _

_ “Hope, I’m not going to die. We can beat this. Don’t try to do this alone!”  _

_ But Hope has already made her decision and Penelope can see it.  _

_ “Hope, please. Hope. Listen to me-“ _

_ And Penelope is wild-eyed and beautiful, even like this, even frantic and begging and desperate, Hope realizes. She’s never seen Penelope like this- calculated and controlled Penelope Park who does everything on purpose, who is five moves ahead of everyone, always- this Penelope is her fault and Hope’s stomach sinks.  _

_ I let this go too far, she thinks. This is all my fault.  _

_ “Hope, listen to me, please-”  _

_ I’m always listening to you. Hope thinks. Don’t you see that’s the problem?  _

_ “I won’t let anyone else get hurt. I’m the Tribrid. I'm the loophole, Penelope. I've always thought that I was a cosmic mistake, someone who should never have been born. But after all this time, I mean, my purpose is finally clear. Think about it. I'm the answer to all of this.” _

_ “Hope, we can find another way! Don’t do this.”  _

_ “The way to destroy Malivore is with the original three creatures. A werewolf, a vampire, and a witch. I’m all three! And if Malivore is gone, all the monsters it sent disappear too! Everything will be back to normal!”  _

_ “Except you’ll be gone!”  _

_ “And you’ll all live!”  _

_ “No!” Penelope is crying now, and so is Hope. “You can’t. You can’t, Hope.”  _

_ Hope is afraid if she stays any longer, she won’t have the courage to do what she has to do. “Penelope, I l-” _

_ “Don’t.” Penelope’s voice trembles. “Don’t say it just because you’re going to die.” _

_ “Okay.” She can feel the tears rolling down her face, but she doesn’t wipe them away. “But you know, right? You know?” _

_ “Hope, please don’t do this.”  _

_ “I hate you.” Hope whispers, and she knows Penelope will know what she means. _

_ “I know.” Penelope says back, her voice breaking, and Hope leaves before she can change her mind. _

_ After that, it goes quickly. She uses a spell to transport herself to Malivore, where Ryan Clarke is waiting for the key.  _

_ Clarke, his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”  _

_ And then: _

_ Hope knows the spell easily. “Imitantor Pupulus.” _

_ Clarke has a nasty, twisted smirk on his face. “Whatever you think you just did didn't work.” _

_ Hope brings her hand up to cover her mouth, a bolt of satisfaction hitting her when Clarke does the same. “How'd you do that?” The panic sets in. “Why did I do that?”  _

_ Hope lets herself smirk a little. “It's a basic mimic spell. We learned it in second grade.” She steps to the railing separating them from Malivore. “Also in second grade- follow the leader.” _

_ She can see it in his eyes when Clarke realizes what she’s going to do. “You don't have to do this.” _

_ Actually, she does. But he won’t understand that. “I know. But it's the only part I'm actually enjoying. Too bad you're so clumsy.”  _

_ Hope takes a deep breath and thinks of Penelope’s smile one last time.  _

_ Then she closes her eyes and throws herself into the pit. _

-

Hope sits up with a gasp.

“Hope!” Alaric gets up from his desk, hurrying over to the couch. “You’re awake!”

Hope rubs at her eyes. “What happened?”

“You passed out as soon as you killed the monster.”

The memories filter back into her head. “How long have I been out?”

“Since last night. I had the nurse look you over, but she said you just needed to rest. That monster was an augur.” 

Hope looks at him blankly.

“It’s- here.” He grabs a heavy book from his desk and flips it to the correct page before handing it to Hope. “They’re seers. They use their visions of potential futures to manipulate their victims.” 

Hope traces an illustration with one finger while she absorbs the information. “So when I killed it…”

“You should’ve had visions.” Alaric looks at her intently. “Hope, what did you see?” 

“I…” Hope runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t remember.” 

But she does remember, she remembers everything, the entire battle, the pain in Penelope’s eyes. 

The solution to it all. 

“These visions, are they guaranteed to happen?”

“The legends weren’t specific.” Alaric takes the book back to turn to the next page and show Hope the faded script and gory illustrations. “By going through desperate lengths to avoid the future the augurs showed them, the hunters inevitably caused it to come true.” He looks at Hope again, searching. “You really don't remember?” 

But, of course, she does remember. It’s all so clear: 

Malivore has been used to wipe creatures from the earth for hundreds of years. Malivore released all the monsters to look for the keys that will set him free; the final key is at Salvatore. If Malivore is set free, everyone at Salvatore will die. All the monsters will storm Salvatore at once in an end-of-the-world battle to try to free Malivore. People will get hurt.  _ Penelope will get hurt _ . Hope is the key to stopping Malivore for good. If she throws herself into Malivore, all the monsters will disappear, the threat will be gone, Penelope will live. 

Hope will disappear. 

But everyone else will live. 

“No, I don’t.” 

Alaric pauses for a second, then seems to accept her words. “Well, Penelope Park almost broke down the door trying to make sure you were okay.” He adds, and there’s something else in his voice.

“Oh?” Hope sits up gingerly, propping herself on her elbows. “Weird.”

Alaric gives her a long look. “Ahuh.”

“You have no idea how much you sound like Lizzie right now.” 

“You should go find her when you're ready to get up. She almost cursed me, I think.” 

“Of course she did.” Hope staggers to her feet. She can’t waste any more time. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alaric asks.

“Yeah.” Hope works hard to make her voice sound steady. “I’m fine.” 

But she knows what she has to do. 

* * *

Hope knows she won’t be able to keep it from Penelope, not completely. But she only has to lie to her for tonight.

Hope pushes open her bedroom door with a sigh, weary. Penelope sits up from Hope’s bed abruptly. 

“Hope!” 

She’s off the bed and holding Hope before she can blink.

“Hey,” Hope says tiredly, letting herself lean into Penelope’s solid hold. A moment of weakness.

“Are you okay? Did you see anything? Killing an augur, you have visions, I’ve heard.” Penelope is running her hands over Hope’s body as if checking for injuries, just bordering on frantic. 

And what is there for Hope to say? 

_ Yes, I saw a vicious battle for the school, I saw people get hurt, I saw you dying? That even without a vision of the future, I’ve always known this how it would be? That the only way to keep you safe is to keep me far, far away from you? _

And it’s fucked up because Hope doesn’t  _ want  _ to die. But she can’t live knowing she could’ve saved their lives and didn’t. She can’t. If she has to sacrifice herself, then she will.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Please,” she adds when she can see Penelope is about to protest. 

Penelope studies her for a long moment, her eyes scanning over Hope’s face as if hoping to find the answers there. “Okay,” she says quietly. 

If she looks at Penelope any more, Hope knows she will break and tell her everything, so instead she surges forward and kisses her, pouring all her fraught emotions into the embrace. Penelope kisses her back desperately, uncontrolled and deep. 

But if this is going to be the last time Hope gets to be with Penelope, she’s going to cherish it. Hope moves to the bed and takes Penelope apart slowly, kisses her with a reverence that she’s never allowed herself to show before, touches her like she’s a work of art. Hope exposes all her devotion as she runs her hands over Penelope’s body, and she lets herself bask in the depth of Penelope’s feelings for her, makes no effort to hold back her cry of Penelope’s name as Penelope touches her. 

Afterwards, they lie there, wrapped in each other’s embrace and Penelope looks at her like she’s never seen anything so precious, so important and right. Hope can feel herself teetering on the edge of admitting it, admitting that the energy and electricity between them can only be one thing, the one emotion she won’t allow herself. And maybe if things were different, if she were anyone other than Hope Mikaelson, she would. 

“I’m bewitched,” Penelope whispers, her lips close enough that Hope can feel the words against her own lips. “What have you done to me?” 

And Hope wants to say “ _ the same thing you’ve done to me _ ,” but she’s afraid if she speaks, the moment will break. 

Instead she just trails her fingers along the curve of Penelope’s cheek, trying to memorize the way Penelope looks at her. 

“You’re crying,” Penelope whispers, the concern in her voice clear, and Hope belatedly realizes that she  _ is _ crying, because in an hour, Hope will slide out from under Penelope’s sleeping form and leave to finish things once and for all and she can hardly stand it. 

Her chest aches with the pain of what she’s about to lose. 

“I just… I hate you,” Hope whispers. “You know that, right?” 

But she doesn’t mean  _ I hate you _ , and she needs to know that Penelope understands what Hope really means, that she hears the words that Hope is too afraid to say. 

She needs Penelope to know that she’s sorry, and that she wishes things could be different, and most of all, that when Hope says she hates her, she actually means the opposite of that. 

In response, Penelope leans up to kiss her softly, swallowing the lie. Hope kisses her back, lets herself savor this for a moment more. Then she pulls away, burying her face against the soft fabric of Penelope’s shirt so Penelope can’t see the sorrow on her face.

“I know.” Penelope tightens her grip around Hope, holding her for what she doesn’t know is the last time. “I know.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay don’t kill me, it’s just a cliffhanger okay!!!!  
  
this chapter's opening quote is from "November" by Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz.  
  
sorry for the long, long delay on this one, ladies. the global pandemic got me good, i'm unemployed now, etc.  
thank you for all the comments and encouragement and not giving up on me! every time i get a new comment it makes me go back to writing again. i really hope this chapter meets y'all expectations...(and if it doesn't, just don't tell me)  
  
coming in the next chapter - the rising and falling action, the climax, the resolution, the finale, and the epilogue. actually gonna put some magic/battling/monsters etc in there. hope and penelope about to show their potential to be a badass monster fighting couple...  
plus, i mean, you know i'm not gonna miss the opportunity to have one of them wake up at the other's bedside in the hospital, right? anyway, julie plec will want what i have. about to show her how to really do a season finale.  
  
until next time: stay safe, ACAB, and i hope y'all had a happy pride month!


	4. part four: isn’t this always how it ends? // EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hope, okay, please, wait-” an explosion knocks them both back a few feet, Penelope tossing her hair from her face before they charge back into the fray.  
“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying for the last 90,000 words?!” She shoots a spell over Hope’s shoulder to destroy a beast. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself!! You don’t have to save everyone! You deserve to live!”  
Hope chokes out a half laugh, half sob, spinning around to take out two more monsters before she turns back to Penelope. _ I’m always listening to you,_ she thinks. _Don’t you see that’s the problem?_  
“I’m not trying to save everyone!” she yells, meeting Penelope’s gaze. Penelope’s chest is heaving from the effort of the battle, soot smeared across her face and her eyes blazing, and Hope feels everything around them slow to a crawl. “I’m trying to save YOU!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are at the end ladies. chapter four and epilogue.  
i truly am sorry for all the delays. as im sure some of you know, it's been a tough fucking year.  
remember that the first half of this chapter might be a little heavy- it is the finale, after all- so don't just expect the lighthearted flirting and banter of the other chapters! but rest assured... there will still be tropes. truly i hope i did this fic justice, please don't be upset if i did not. God i hope you like it. ommm okay can't stress about it now. anyway,  
this one goes out to lotem, zey, and lele (the true henelope fans), the three people who donated to my ko-fi, and everyone who was not a bitch about how long it takes me to update

_ How privileged you are, to be passionately _

_ clinging to what you love; _

_ the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you. _

_ [...] _

_ Surely it is a privilege to approach the end _

_ still believing in something. _

* * *

“Hope.” 

Hope doesn’t really like to acknowledge the traits that make her different from others. So many of her powers can be used for evil, and there is a small, dark part of her that reminds her of that often, so she always must be careful, careful not to get carried away by the burden of the power she carries. But in times like these- moments of cold, still clarity- it’s hard to ignore her heightened senses, her impossible potential. 

Penelope says her name in barely louder than a whisper from across the room and Hope freezes, one hand on the doorknob, her senses in overdrive. She can hear Penelope’s heartbeat from here, the way it’s racing, urgent and quick, the exact opposite of her calm, flat tone. She can see each tiny fleck of dust on the faded wood of the door, highlighted in the stream of early morning sunlight from the window. She can feel the cold, smooth metal beneath her fingertips, can picture easily how she could wrench the door open and run, gone before Penelope could even stand from the bed. Hope swallows.

“Hope,” Penelope repeats. “Did you really think you could kiss me like you’ll never get to kiss me again and I wouldn’t be able to tell something was wrong? Did you really think I’d just-”

“Penelope.” Hope doesn’t turn around, because she knows if she looks at Penelope now, she won’t be able to do what she needs to do. “Please.”

“Please what? Please let you go sacrifice yourself to save everyone else?” 

Hope squeezes her eyes shut. Her grip on the door handle is so tight, she is certain the metal is about to snap.  _ Run _ , her mind tells her.  _ You have to run. You have to do this. _ And yet Hope’s feet stay planted on the floor, unable to walk away from Penelope. 

“That is what you’re going to do, isn’t it?” 

Hope leans forward and rests her forehead on the wood of the door. Damn Penelope for always seeing through her, for always reading what Hope doesn’t put into words. “Look, you don’t understand-”

“What don’t I understand?” 

“I-” but words fail her. 

“You saw something bad when you killed the augur, right?” Hope hears the slide and shift of Penelope’s skin against the sheets as she sits up. “What did you see?” 

It’s really not fair how easily Penelope’s voice persuades Hope, how quickly Penelope can worm her way through Hope’s mental walls. Hope licks her lips, still refusing to turn around, directing her words to the door. “Do you remember when I told you about Malivore? That hell dimension that Alaric was worried about?” 

“Yes.”

“It’s gathered an army of monsters and they’re coming here to find this.. this key, this, this chalice that will restore Malivore. And I saw…” she swallows, “I saw everyone fight back. All of Salvatore. But we were losing anyway. No matter what we did…” Hope shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut to futilely avoid remembering it. “We were going to lose.” 

“So you decided to do what you do best?”

“Penelope, you can’t just- you don’t understand!” 

“Then explain it to me!” 

Hope spins around, frustrated, which is a mistake. Penelope is sitting up in her bed like a throne and she’s looking at Hope with that blazing expression of anger and defiance and Hope feels her resolve weaken immediately, feels that magnetic pull to return to Penelope’s arms and ignore the rest of the world. But she knows she can’t. 

“The way to destroy Malivore is with the original three creatures that created it: a werewolf, a vampire, and a witch. And I’m,” Hope presses a palm to her chest, just over her heart, “all three. A loophole. And if Malivore is gone, all the monsters it sent disappear too! Nobody has to fight, nobody has to get hurt!” It’s so  _ clear _ to her. She needs Penelope to see it too.

“Except you.” Penelope isn’t asking. 

“I can’t let anyone else get hurt. I’m the Tribrid. I'm the loophole, Penelope! Think about it. I'm the answer to this. I can stop it before it even begins. And I won’t even die.” 

Penelope grimaces. “What happens when something gets sacrificed to Malivore, Hope?” 

“It’s like it never existed. You’ll forget me. Everyone will forget me.” 

Penelope tosses back the covers, gets out of the bed, and stalks to Hope’s wardrobe, grabbing clothes at random. Hope watches warily. 

“What are you doing?” 

Penelope’s hands tremble as she rolls up the sleeves, although with anger or fear, Hope couldn’t say. She shakes her head. “I won’t let you.” 

Hope feels the anger start to build, almost a welcome reprieve from the panic and despair that’s been running through her veins for the last twelve hours. She lets her voice drop to a growl. “I’m not asking you for  _ permission _ , Penelope.” 

Penelope runs her hands through her hair in frustration. “I know you’re not, Hope! But I’m not going to let you throw your life away because of some ill-gotten notion that you only exist to save other people!”

“It’s my life! It’s my choice!”

“No, it isn’t!”

The words come to Hope like a flash of lightning. “Look, just because you regret your choices with Josie and your family doesn’t mean you get to try to control everyone else’s!”

A moment of ice cold silence follows her words. Hope watches Penelope visibly push down her anger and hurt. She takes a short, controlled breath. 

“I’m going to set that aside for now, because I know you’re distressed and just trying to fight, but later, you will have to grovel for that one.” 

“There isn’t going to be a later!” 

“I’m not trying to control you, Hope. If you want to leave  _ me _ , if you want to go, fine. I’m not Landon, okay? That’s your choice. But I’m not going to just sit back and let you die! That affects more than just you!” 

“I wouldn’t  _ die _ . You’d just forget me.” 

“So why do you get to make that choice for me? For all of us? What if I don’t want to forget you?!”

Hope rolls her eyes. “You barely even knew I existed until this year. You’d be fine.” 

Penelope takes a step closer, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “Do you really believe that? Have I not made it clear that I l-”

“Don’t!” Hope hisses, terrified because she knows if Penelope says it now, it will break her. “Don’t. And you’re not the one who would have to deal with the guilt, okay? I can’t live with knowing I could’ve saved everyone and didn’t.” She turns on Penelope, her voice rising in conviction. “Aren't you the one who’s all “the ends justify the means”, chaotic neutral shit?! Surely you of all people would agree that sacrificing one person is worth saving everyone else!” 

“Not when it’s YOU!” Penelope shouts, just as emotional. “Not,” she says quieter, her desperation showing, just like in Hope’s vision, “when it’s you.”

Hope opens her mouth to argue more, but no words come out in the face of Penelope’s pure and potent need to save her.

Penelope presses her advantage, stepping forward. “Look. You’re not thinking rationally. You haven’t activated your vampire side yet, it wouldn’t work. Or it would, but not permanently. So we’d just have to deal with it again in season two. The smart thing to do would be to get everyone together and come up with a plan. One where  _ everyone _ lives and no one is forgotten.” 

And she’s right, and Hope knows she’s right, but there isn’t any other solution, so she can’t be right. “You don’t know for sure it wouldn’t work. We have to at least try!” Hope shakes her head, annoyed that tears are forming in her eyes. “It’s not fair, okay, I know you all think I’m just stubborn and stupid, but you don’t understand! You don’t understand the pressure, you don’t understand. I’m  _ Hope Mikaelson _ .” 

Hope can hear the tremor in her own voice, knows how unhinged her movements have become, but she can’t calm down. She needs Penelope to understand that this isn’t some plot point and Penelope isn’t just going to be able to come in and save the day. “Do you think I  _ want _ to lose you? Don’t you know you’re all I want?! But how am I supposed to feel okay, knowing I could’ve stopped innocent people, innocent  _ kids _ from getting hurt and I didn’t? I can’t- I can’t be selfish like that.”

She sees something shift in Penelope’s eyes, the pieces lined up to checkmate. Hope is within touching distance now, but Penelope holds herself back. 

“But why do you think it has to be you, Hope?” Her voice is deadly calm, focused. 

“Because! Don’t you see? It’s always going to be something. If not the Triad, if not Malivoire, then something else, some other world-ending monster. Because of ME. Because I’m not supposed to exist!” 

“But if you’re gone, all those things will still exist, Hope. Everything would be the same, but we wouldn’t have you-” 

“Maybe it would be better that way!” 

The words are out of Hope’s mouth before she can stop herself. The true crux of the matter, the sliver of Hope’s soul that she’s always kept hidden deep in her chest. That  _ she _ is the bad thing, the curse on everyone’s lives.

Penelope is looking at her like she can see right into her soul, like Hope has split open her chest and revealed her heart, bare and vulnerable. She nods slowly. 

“You think if you’re gone, then people will stop getting hurt. You think it’s your fault. Because you’re a Mikaelson, because you think you’re a mistake. You think you’re bad.” 

“I-” Hope shakes her head and steps back, out of Penelope’s reach, because she knows if Penelope touches her, she’ll feel how close Hope is to falling apart. “It’s not, I don’t-” Her breath hitches on a sob; she can feel herself trembling all over. 

Penelope takes another step closer, even as Hope’s back hits the wall. “Hope, there are always going to be bad things and monsters and shit. But they’re not your fault, Hope. People suffering, people getting hurt. It’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault when your parents died and it’s not your fault now.”

Hope shakes her head over and over, her eyes shut as if that will stop her from hearing Penelope’s words, but Penelope closes the gap between them, pulling Hope gently against her. “It’s not true, Hope. You are not bad. It’s not your fault. You aren’t a mistake, okay?”

Hope sinks into Penelope’s arms and shakes with the force of her tears, Penelope’s warmth surrounding her like a shield. Penelope doesn’t say anything else, just holds her very tight and hums under her breath. 

Hope waits until her choked breaths have subsided, then mumbles against Penelope’s shoulders: “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can be the hero this time.”

“Let me help you,” Penelope implores, her lips brushing Hope’s temple. “I’ll help gather the masses, tell them what to do. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t want y- anyone to get hurt. Because of me.”

Penelope sighs, knowing it’s useless to try to convince Hope that it’s not her fault right now. “Let’s just try, okay? Augurs’ visions aren’t true, we know that. So let’s try defending the school and see if things turn out differently. 

When Penelope says it, it sounds so easy, so reasonable. Hope takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. We can try. But-” she pulls back to look Penelope in the eye so she knows she’s serious- “but if we start to lose, you have to let me go to Malivore.”

Penelope starts shaking her head immediately. “No, Hope, you know I won’t-”

“Penelope.”

Penelope locks her jaw. “No.”

“You know I’ll do it either way. You can’t stop me.” Hope knows her words will hurt, but what choice does she have? 

Penelope flinches, looking off to the side, her gaze distant. 

“Alright,” she says, her voice hollow. “We try it my way. But if it doesn’t work, then you can…” she swallows. “Yeah. Fine. Okay.” What must it cost her, to admit defeat? Hope can only imagine. 

In the distance, Hope imagines she can hear the earth rumbling beneath the feet of what is coming. She takes a deep breath, holds it for as long as she is able. 

“Okay,” she says finally, and they both ignore the way it sounds like an apology. 

* * *

“Saltzmans!” Penelope throws open the door to the twins’ bedroom. 

Lizzie yelps and pushes Sebastian off the bed, accidentally exposes her bare chest to both of them. Penelope claps one hand over Hope’s eyes until Lizzie pulls up the sheets to cover herself. 

Hope side eyes Penelope when she removes her hand. “Why did you cover my eyes and not yours?!”

“Please. I already don’t want to see that.”

“Is there a reason you’re here, Satan?” Lizzie snaps. “Some of us were busy.” 

“Do you know where Josie is?” 

“Probably with Landon, I don’t know! I’m not her keeper!” 

Penelope snaps her fingers and Josie and Landon appear on Josie’s bed. Josie takes in their surroundings and starts blushing furiously. 

“Um.. what’s happening?” Landon asks, carefully re-buttoning his jeans. 

“Jesus Christ.” Penelope rolls her eyes. “The world as we know it is about to end and all you people can think about is sex.” 

“You’re wearing Hope’s shirt and it’s on backwards,” Lizzie points out. 

“I…” Penelope considers this. “Okay, that's fair. Now listen up: we need to rally the troops.” 

“What troops?” 

“ _ We _ ?” 

“We’re doomed,” Hope mutters. She can feel the threat looming over them, even if the rest of them can’t, and Penelope’s presence is the only thing stopping Hope from heading to Malivore this instant. 

Penelope elbows her in the side and clears her throat. “Hope has a vision-”

“Oh god. Sentences that start that way never end well.” Penelope glares at Lizzie until Lizzie rolls her eyes and gestures at her to continue. “Hope had a vision and Mailvore is sending all his monsters to the school to recover the final piece he needs to come back to life. We need to gather up all the students and see who wants to stay and defend the school and get everyone else out of here.”

“Wait, we’re staying to defend the school? Why don’t we just let Hope do her usual annoying saving the world thing?”

“Shut the fuck-” 

Hope jolts out of her stupor to dart forward and grab Penelope’s wrist- Penelope’s fingertips crackle with energy, her eyes blazing as she glares at Lizzie.   
Lizzie raises her eyebrows at Penelope’s reaction to her words, looking strangely triumphant. “Protective, aren’t we?”

“Ooookay.” Josie moves to stand between the two of them. “Let’s all be calm for a minute. We’ll get dad and decide what to do.” 

Penelope rolls her eyes as she tries to turn Hope’s wrist grip into a handhold. “Oh yes, let’s get Alaric. That’s  _ always _ helpful.” 

-

“Hmm.” Alaric steeples his hands in front of him, elbows propped on the desk.

Penelope huffs, impatient. Josie shoots her a look. 

“So all the creatures of Malivore are storming the school at once…” he says thoughtfully. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Did we consider,” Alaric inhales deeply, “letting Hope sacrifice herself to Malivore and then figuring out how to get our memories back after?” 

Penelope slaps both hands on the desk. “That’s it.” She shoves her chair away from the group and stalks out the door. 

Hope, Lizzie, and Josie exchange a look before hurrying out after her, leaving Alaric behind to be useless as usual.

-

“Here’s the situation,”

Penelope paces back and forth across the stage, the student body watching, rapt. Penelope’s presence commands a room; she is larger than life, ethereal and awe-inspiring. 

“There’s this ancient, evil, golem who swallows monsters and sends them to a hell dimension. Now he’s gathered all those monsters and he’s sending them here to Salvatore to find the final magic object to resurrect him to his full power and blah blah blah. You know, the usual evil agenda.” Penelope waves a hand to dismiss the technicalities. “So here’s what’s going to happen. We evacuate all the younger students. Everyone who wants to stay and fight, stays and fights. Everyone who doesn’t, get the hell out of Dodge before any shit goes down. Got it?”

Someone from the back of the crowd shouts, “Is fighting or running our only option?!”

“No.” Hope speaks up, ignoring the dark look Penelope gives her. “Malivore could be defeated with the blood of a werewolf, vampire, and witch. I could sacrifice myself.”

MG steps forward immediately. “Fuck that. We can defend our school from anything.” There’s a murmur of agreement from the crowd. 

Hope blinks, swallowing her shock. “But why would you risk it? It would be so much easier to just send me.” 

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Because we care about you, dumbass.” 

Josie nods in agreement with the general sentiment, if not the phrasing. “You’ve saved and protected us countless times. It’s our turn.” 

Hope looks up at the ceiling before she can do something stupid, like cry. She realizes, quite suddenly, that this scene is different from her vision because in this reality, she has Penelope helping her. 

Landon raises his hand for no reason. “But how do we actually defeat the golem?” 

“Oh, there will be a whole thing with Simulandon, Hope’s blood, etc. I can’t really get into it right now but that will take time, so first we have to protect Salvatore, then later we finish off Malivore. Don’t worry about it.” Penelope punctuates her statement with a hair toss. “Now, can we get started?”

“Hold on.” Alyssa speaks up abruptly, the people around her stepping back as she raises her voice. “Why should we listen to you? You don’t give a fuck about saving this school.”

Hope is about to protest, but Penelope’s eyes sharpen like a hawk spotting prey. 

“You’re right, you pathetic, second-season-julie-plec-thinks-all-poc-are-replaceable, poor man’s imitation of me. I really couldn’t care less about what happens to this place. But if saving this school is what it takes to keep Hope from sacrificing herself, then I will put everything I have into protecting Salvatore.” The stone cold firmness of Penelope’s words makes it clear she is not fucking around. And now probably isn’t the time for it, but Hope can feel her stomach twist in a weird, giddy way over the sincerity of Penelope’s statement, the protectiveness of it all. 

“Damn.” Kaleb whistles. “That is romantic as hell.” 

“Does anyone else have any other questions? No? Good.” Penelope claps her hands together once, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “I’m going to the library to research. Rafael and Jed, you work with the werewolves. Jojo, Lizzie, the witches, and MG and Kaleb, the vampires. Mikaelson can rotate groups. Everyone else whose names I don’t know, if you’re going to stay, figure out a way to be useful and then get started with that.” 

Penelope’s gaze snaps to Hope for a moment before she pulls her eyes away. Then Penelope turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room.

The room fills with the clamour of students as they discuss among themselves. Hope looks at Rafael a little pleadingly. “Did Penelope seem upset to you?”

“Ohh no,” Rafael holds up his hands in innocence, “I’m not touching that. You two deal with your own mess.” He starts walking backwards slowly, hands still raised. “I’ll take my chances with the aggressive wolves, thank you very much.” 

“You’re the one who decided to dance with the devil,” Josie points out unhelpfully as she walks by dragging a chair. 

“Please don’t remind me that Hope and she-who-shall-not-be-named are sleeping together.” Lizzie directs a group of students to carry boxes toward the space they’ve cleared to work in. “Are things not dire enough?” 

“To be fair, we have to hear about everyone you’ve slept with,” MG points out, immediately cowering under Lizzie’s glare. “Uh, nevermind.” 

Hope pinches the bridge of her nose. “We’re doomed. Did I mention we’re doomed?” 

Lizzie swats her on the arm as she walks by. “Don’t be morbid. I’m sure your girlfriend will come up with some grand plan.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Hope says miserably, but everyone ignores her. Hope sighs and heads off to help people prepare for the fight. 

* * *

“Have you seen Penelope?”

Josie finds Hope as she finishes cleaning up the last of the equipment. She’s dragging the practice mats off the floor of the gym to stack on the side by the bleachers, even though it could easily be completed with one spell. Hope is avoiding going to sleep; sleep will only bring her closer to tomorrow and she is sick with dread over what might happen tomorrow. 

She shrugs. “I heard she was in the library. Check there.” 

Josie sighs a little. “I meant,  _ you _ should go talk to Penelope.”

Hope pushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead with the back of one hand. “I don’t think she really wants to see me right now.” 

“I think it’s clear she always wants to see you.”

Hope gives her a disbelieving look and Josie pats her shoulder. “I know I was upset when I first found out about the two of you. But Lizzie is right- everyone can see you guys make each other happy.” She smiles fondly. “When you’re not being stubborn.” 

“I’m not-” Hope pauses. “Yeah, alright, whatever. But she definitely was avoiding me today.” 

“I’m not going to pretend I understand everything that’s going on between the two of you. But she’s probably just scared.”

Hope scoffs. “Nothing scares Penelope.” 

“Think about it from her perspective. You know she hates to be vulnerable. Now she’s been vulnerable with you and you’re trying to sacrifice yourself.”

“It’s not like I  _ want  _ to leave!” Hope turns to face Josie and finds her giving her a look of pity. 

“I know that, Hope. I’m sure she does too. Just… go talk to her, alright? I’m sure Penelope has already said this, but you really don’t have to do everything alone.” 

Hope leans against the stack of mats, and closes her eyes. “I’ll think about it.” 

She listens to the soft patter of Josie’s footsteps leaving the gym and sighs. 

-

Hope finds the library dark and seemingly empty.

She weaves through the aisles until she spots Penelope camped at a table in the back, right where they used to hang out. 

“Hey.” 

Penelope doesn’t look up from her work, scribbling something down in a notebook and underlining a passage in the book she has open next to it. “Hey.” 

Hope waits.

“Did you need something?” Penelope asks, her voice cold. “Because I was under the impression you didn’t need help from anyone. You are Hope Mikaelson, after all.” 

The tone stings, but Hope can roll with the punches. “I can’t imagine anyone comes to you for  _ help _ .” She waits a beat, but no sharp retort follows. “What’s going on?” 

Penelope scoffs under her breath and Hope winces. “Okay, not a great question. How about, what’re you doing?” 

“Surely even  _ you _ can tell I’m reading.” And Penelope has said this to her before, but now it’s without the playfulness, the smug teasing that Hope has grown used to. She waits for a second, listening to the slow pattern of Penelope’s breathing to stay calm. 

“Penelope.” Hope keeps her voice quiet. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Penelope lets out a long breath. Hope can see her clench and unclench her jaw before she looks up. 

When she does, Hope gets confirmation of what she’s already understood from their conversation- Penelope’s eyes are cold and emotionless; she’s slipped into her head bitch persona, her mental version of armor, hard and untouchable. 

“What do you want, Hope?”

Hope studies her options. “I…” it’s tempting to let Penelope drag her into an argument, to spend the night apart so Hope doesn’t have to think about all the emotions they aren’t talking about. But if tomorrow she can go into battle, then surely tonight she can be brave, she can be the person Penelope believes her to be. 

“You. I want you.”

Penelope’s chest rises and falls. She shuts her book and leans back in her chair, studying Hope. Hope desperately wants to close the gap between them, to be touching Penelope in some way, in any way, to feel the comfort Penelope’s touch brings. But she waits. 

Penelope licks her lips. “I’m not trying to make your choices for you.” 

“I know that. I’m sorry. I only said that because I’m scared.”

“I know. I’m scared too.” 

“... Sleep with me tonight?”

A little bit of the hardness melts from Penelope’s gaze. “Buy a girl dinner first.”

Hope holds out a hand to help Penelope up. “I’ve tried. You’re very sneaky about paying the check. Which is unnecessary, you know. The Mikaelsons are like, crazy rich.”

They start down the hallway to Hope’s room, hands still connected. From the corner of her eye, Hope can see the corners of Penelope’s mouth turn up slightly. 

“Oh, I know. That’s why I’m here; I’ll get half of all your assets when we divorce.”

Hope lets out a peal of surprised laughter. “We’re already getting divorced? Why?” She unlocks her door and pushes Penelope against it as soon as they get inside, Hope’s fingers through her belt loops.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Penelope asks slyly, hooking her ankle around the back of Hope’s knee so Hope has to stumble forward, their foreheads almost knocking together. Hope looks into her eyes and is relieved to see  _ her  _ Penelope, not the sharp and heartless mask from before. 

“I’d rather hear how you convinced me to marry you, to be honest.”

Penelope smiles, a real smile, and leans forward to seal their lips together, kissing Hope deeply. Hope sighs contentedly into the kiss, letting Penelope’s touch banish all her worries from her mind. 

“That’s how,” Penelope whispers when the kiss breaks. It takes a moment for Hope to remember what they’d been talking about. She shrugs nonchalantly, even though her knees are weak from the kiss. Her voice comes out husky. 

“I don’t know, Pen. I think I’d propose first.” 

They’re just teasing each other, but Hope hears Penelope’s breath catch all the same. “Mm, I don’t know about that, Mikaelson. Pretty sure I’m the romantic here.” 

“I can be romantic!” Hope protests as she tugs Penelope to the bed, kicking off her shoes as she goes. 

“Rightttttt.” There’s still some tension in Penelope’s shoulders, but she’s smiling as Hope pushes her down on the bed and crawls in after her. 

“I can be,” Hope murmurs, their noses brushing as they huddle together under the blankets. “I’ll show you.”

“I look forward to it.” Penelope looks at her with that intense gaze again, and Hope shivers with anticipation. But Penelope doesn’t kiss her. 

Instead she brings one hand up and traces Hope’s face with her fingertips, sliding along her eyebrows, her cheeks, her jawline. Hope feels her skin heat up under the attention and she tries to focus on keeping her breathing even. 

The electric tension between them rises as Penelope traces Hope’s lips with her thumb, Hope’s breath hitching. Hope shifts her hips so she can tangle her legs with Penelope's, desperate for skin contact. 

And still Penelope doesn’t speak, even as her eyes darken with desire, as she feels Hope tremble at her touch. Her other hand comes up to slide under Hope’s blouse, scraping her nails along Hope’s spine and making Hope gasp, although Hope does her best to stay still, afraid any movement will make Penelope stop. 

“Penelope..” Hope whispers. 

“Yes?” Penelope’s fingers trace along the edge of Hope’s bra, making Hope’s eyelids flutter. 

“I don’t want you to forget me.” 

“I won’t,” Penelope whispers, fierce and firm. “I won’t.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” 

“I won’t. You won’t. Just… just stay with me, Hope. Please.” 

The plea in Penelope’s voice makes her ache, but Hope can’t promise her that and they both know it, so instead of answering, Hope gives in to the hot sparks of desire burning between them and kisses Penelope. 

There is a desperacy to the kiss, a fraught sense of urgency as they cling to each other, their hands scrabbling to pull off their clothes, to have as much skin to skin contact as they kiss. 

“Fuck, Hope,” Penelope mutters against her throat, and Hope realizes Penelope is having the same difficulty she is- to not say the three words that are blaring in her mind, to not confess, to not put a name to the roar of emotion between them. 

“Penelope,” Hope gasps back, and then there aren’t any words left to be said, so they don’t talk at all.

* * *

Hope and Penelope wake up just before dawn. Together, they watch the sun rise via the shadows on the wall fading and then they get dressed in silence.

The bells ring, an early warning system some of the students had set up yesterday, and Hope knows it’s time. 

Before they leave the room, they embrace for a long moment. When they pull back, Hope can barely meet Penelope’s eyes. 

“I wish you understood.” Penelope’s voice is very quiet. “I wish you understood how it feels.”

She does not elaborate further. Hope frowns, stepping closer and resting her palm along the delicate tendons of Penelope’s throat. “I do. I understand.” 

“No,” Penelope says, and her smile is infinitely tragic, striking at Hope like a blade. “No, you don’t.” 

Later, of course, Hope will wish she had asked what Penelope meant. 

* * *

“I must say, this is all giving me a real sense of déjà vu,” Lizzie says as she pulls back her hair. “I feel like I’ve seen Penelope lead a group of us into battle before. But then a genie made me forget it all, or something.”

“Well, that just sounds like lazy storytelling to me.” Penelope is methodically sharpening a knife, which Hope thinks is a little dramatic, given that Penelope is going to be using magic to attack, so the knife is all for show. 

“I don’t know..” MG rubs his chin in thought. “It just feels a little out of place. There wasn’t very much action in the first three parts.”

Penelope flips her knife in the air to sharpen the other side. “The battling is but a vehicle for the dialogue to be displayed. The action and fighting doesn’t actually matter as much as how the characters act within it. Duh.” 

“But did it have to be a battle?” 

“I think a big end-of-the-world battle is very fitting for our story.” Penelope gestures between herself and Hope. “Ours is an epic romance worthy of a dramatic finale episode.”

Hope puts her head in her hands to hide her blush and sigh of exasperation. 

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Damn, Park, if we survive this, it might actually be fun to watch you torment Mikaelson all the time.”

“Are Lizzie and Penelope going to become friends?” Landon looks perturbed. “Maybe it really is the end of the world.” 

“Can we please focus?!” Hope tries to get them back on track before the conversation can derail any further. “Why are you all so nonchalant about this?? We are a bunch of teenagers about to head fight and potentially kill a bunch of monsters, who are trying to kill us!”

“We are supernatural creatures,” Rafael says thoughtfully, “it was bound to happen eventually. Actually, the only reason it hasn’t happened before is because you usually do it yourself.” 

“Plus, we’re going to win, so it’s fine,” Lizzie adds.

A sweaty looking sophomore runs up to the table where they’ve set up camp. “They’re almost here!” he pants as he relays the message. 

They all exchange glances. Penelope rises from the table and grips her knife in one hand. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“That’s it?” Landon frowns. “Surely we have a cooler line than that.” 

Penelope sighs in exasperation, turning back to deliver a scathing line in response, but she doesn’t get the chance. 

There’s a loud CRACK as something rams into the front door. A shout rises up through the student body, and then there’s no more time for discussion. 

All hell breaks loose. 

-

MG, Kaleb, Penelope, Josie, Lizzie, Landon, Rafael- all her friends lead the charge. Hope follows along side, ready to defend, to heal, to do whatever she can to help her friends, prevent anyone from getting hurt, and save the school. 

It is very similar to Hope’s vision- an endless montage of fighting and spells and one monster after another. They are lucky that Malivore’s monsters are uncoordinated and unwilling to work together; each creature seems determined to be the one to retrieve the chalice for Malivore, and so they don’t attempt to help one another when a Salvatore student attacks. 

Hope moves between all the students, firing off spells, shifting from human to wolf, doing everything she can. She heals Josie with her blood, she protects Rafael from a giant scorpion’s claw. But through it all, she searches for the beast from her vision, the one who attacked Penelope. 

Every time Hope leaves her side to assist someone, she returns to Penelope after, though she knows Penelope is more than capable of defending herself. It helps her quell the constant clamor of anxiety in her mind, the fear that she could lose Penelope at any moment and it will be her fault. 

She glances quickly over at Penelope to make sure she’s alright and finds Penelope already watching her.

“Have I ever mentioned how hot it is when you fight?” 

Hope brushes her hair off of her face, resetting for the next attack. “Is now really the time for those kinds of comments?” 

“Do you really expect me not to flirt just because our lives are in danger?” Penelope conjures a ball of ice shards and Hope uses a telepathy spell to send the spikes flying to take out a group of vicious, fish-like creatures. “Give me a minute, there’s a line somewhere about what a good team we are. I just need to think of it.” 

“Something about me being a knock-out, perhaps?” Hope suggests while she ducks so Penelope can hurl a swirling mass of rocks at a group of monsters behind her. 

“Maybe it’s your turn to try some pick-up lines on me!”

Hope gives Penelope a skeptical look when she has a moment between spells. “Is it? I feel like I’ve already picked you up.” 

Penelope laughs as she uses a forcefield spell to push back a pack of bahamuts. “You really know how to woo a woman.”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” Hope really needs to stop encouraging Penelope, because all this back and forth banter really makes Hope want to kiss her and she doesn’t have that kind of time. From the corner of her eye, she sees what she’s been looking for. “Hold that thought.”

Hope runs through the field, ignoring all and any obstacles as she focuses on the creature. This time, she studied in advance, so she recognizes the vicious, dark-winged creature right away. It’s a camazotz, just as Penelope had said in her vision, and so Hope doesn’t hesitate: as soon as she’s in range, she propels herself off the ground and grabs onto its back, plunging her dagger into its back as it shrieks. 

She will not let this monster hurt Penelope. Not today, not ever. Hope continues to stab, mechanically repeating the motion over and over, until: 

“Hope! HOPE!”

Penelope’s hand around her wrist is what finally stops her. 

“What?!” she snarls, spinning to face the other woman. 

“It’s dead. You can stop now. It’s alright.” 

Hope’s gaze catches on her arm, still in Penelope’s grip. Her hand is drenched in the green-grey blood of the camazotz and when she looks down she realizes it’s dead, and now Hope has just been beating it into an unrecognizable mass. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” Penelope repeats. 

“Yes.” Hope centers herself by concentrating on Penelope’s heartbeat; Penelope is alive, the monster is dead. They need to keep fighting. “We need to keep fighting.”

“Hope,” Penelope starts, but Hope shakes her head.

“Come on. They need our help.” Hope takes off running, knowing Penelope will follow. 

The students of Salvatore are doing their best; already many of Malivore’s creatures lay unconscious on the ground. But as Hope and Penelope slog their way through the battlefield, helping everyone they can, Hope looks around and feels her heart sink with dread.

Even after all this, they are going to lose. 

“Penelope.” Hope waves her hand to knock aside a kappa and repeats herself. “Penelope.”

There must be something about her tone of voice, because when Penelope turns to her, she is already shaking her head. 

“Hope, no-”

“Pen. I need to go. I need to- I have to stop Malivore.” 

“No.  _ No _ !” Penelope growls, vicious and decisive, and she stabs a horned beast on her left without turning around. “Hope, we can do this. We can win!” 

But her voice is tinged with anguish and Hope knows it’s a lie. 

“We can’t.” Around them, their friends are falling back as the monsters of Malivore press their advantage, pushing them closer to the school. “I have to go.” 

“No, you don’t! Listen to me Hope, please! We can still- there are other ways- you don’t have to-” Penelope’s plea gets cut off as she ducks to avoid a blast of fire from the mouth of a dragon-like creature. Hope douses it with water and sends it flying as Penelope stamps out the fire on her shirtsleeve. 

“I have to go to Malivore, Penelope! People are getting hurt!” 

“We accepted the risk when we agreed to stay and fight!”

Hope shakes her head as Penelope’s voice rises in urgency. “I’m sorry, Penelope, I-”   
“NO!”

And Penelope is wild-eyed and beautiful, even like this, even frantic and begging and desperate, Hope realizes. She’s never seen Penelope like this- this Penelope is her fault and Hope’s stomach sinks. 

_ I let this go too far _ , she thinks.  _ This is all my fault. _

“Hope, okay, please, wait-” an explosion knocks them both back a few feet, Penelope tossing her hair from her face before they charge back into the fray. 

“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying for the last 90,000 words?!” She shoots a spell over Hope’s shoulder to destroy a beast. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself!! You don’t have to save everyone! You deserve to live!” 

Hope chokes out a half laugh, half sob, spinning around to take out two more monsters before she turns back to Penelope.  _ I’m always listening to you,  _ she thinks. _ Don’t you see that’s the problem? _

“I’m not trying to save everyone!” she yells, meeting Penelope’s gaze. Penelope’s chest is heaving from the effort of the battle, soot smeared across her face and her eyes blazing, and Hope feels everything around them slow to a crawl. “I’m trying to save YOU!”

Reality has splintered from Hope’s vision now- she doesn’t know what happens next, how she convinces Penelope to let her go, but she knows how this has to end. 

“No!” Penelope is  _ crying _ . “You can’t. You can’t, Hope.” 

Hope is afraid if she stays any longer, she won’t have the courage to do what she has to do. “You promised, Penelope. You agreed that I could do what I have to do.”

Penelope’s eyes lose their heat, resolve settling over her shoulders like a weight. She wipes away her tears and meets Hope’s determined gaze with her own. “This is what you have to do,” she repeats carefully, her words heavy with some unknown meaning. “Even if it means breaking my heart?” 

“Yes.” Hope tears her eyes away. “I’m sorry, but yes.” 

Around them, the battle wages on, but the air between the two of them is heavy and silent. Penelope takes Hope’s hand and leads her to a relatively safe space, away from the main fighting, sheltered by the shadow of Salvatore School. The pain in Penelope’s eyes is unbearable. 

“I’m sorry,” Hope repeats. “If there was another way to protect everyone, to protect you…”

“It’s okay,” Penelope says, even though it isn’t, at all. “We all do what we have to do.” She bites her lip hard to stop herself from crying more, and Hope is grateful, so grateful that Penelope isn’t fighting her on this, that she is letting Hope do what she needs to do.

Penelope nods to herself, then steps closer to Hope, just barely not touching. “Kiss me? One last time?”

How can Hope deny her that? She takes a deep breath, breathing in the iron tang of blood and the charred smoke from the fires and underneath all of it, the comforting smell of Penelope. She doesn’t let herself hold Penelope- Hope’s afraid if she takes Penelope into her arms, she won’t be able to let go. Instead, she tilts forward, letting their lips brush once, twice, then deeping it. 

Connected at this one single point, just their lips pressed together, Hope tries to commit the feeling to memory, to hold onto it while she still can. The taste of what she is about to lose chokes her like a noose. Hope feels a single tear escape, sliding down her cheek, and she knows she needs to go  _ now _ , before she changes her mind. 

When she pulls back from the kiss, Penelope looks pained and pale, all the blood drained from her face. She staggers backwards a step and Hope frowns, unable to comprehend the scene in front of her. 

“What-” she starts to ask, and then Hope looks down between them just in time to see Penelope pull the blade from her own stomach and toss it to the ground with a clatter, spattered with blood. 

Hope feels time stop. 

* * *

How many times has she seen a loved one die in front of her? How many times has she had this exact nightmare? How many times has she felt this unique suckerpunch of despair, the wind knocked right out of her from the emotional pain? Hope knows she must be dreaming, or still stuck in a vision, or something, because Penelope  _ can’t _ have just stabbed herself, she _ can’t _ die today, Hope  _ can’t _ take it.

Time starts again, disjointed and unfamiliar, reality rushing back in. 

Hope drops to her knees to catch Penelope as she falls into her arms. 

“Penelope, what-”

Penelope smiles, smug until the end, even as blood soaks through her shirt. “Sometimes you do what you have to do, Hope. Even if it means breaking your heart.” 

_ Calculated and controlled Penelope Park, who does everything on purpose, who is five moves ahead of everyone, always-  _ Hope feels her stomach sink, the dread seeping into her bones.

“Penelope-” Hope repeats, and distantly she thinks she might be going into shock as she lets out a hysterical half laugh. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

Penelope attempts to sit up, but falls back with a pained gasp. “I- fuck, that hurts- I found a channeling spell. It was really more of a backup plan, but obviously we’ve arrived at the time for backup plans. It’s going to transfer all my magic to you and then you can save the day like you always do. But you know how channeling magic works.” She pulls a stilted breath. “It requires a sacrifice.” 

“Penelope-” Hope can feel herself teetering on the edge of insanity, because she cannot see Penelope die, she  _ can’t _ . 

Penelope is right, Penelope is always right, channeling magic  _ always _ requires a sacrifice, which is why it’s not an option, which is why Hope would never let anyone do this. She’s trying to stop the bleeding, pressing her palms to the wound, but Penelope keeps batting her hands away. 

“Hope.” Penelope’s voice is firm. She cradles Hope’s cheek with one bloody palm. “I’m not going to die. And neither are you. You said you trust me. Please. Trust me on this. Let me help you.” 

“I- I can’t lose you, Penelope.” 

“And you’re not going to. I’m not really the self-sacrificing type, you know?” Penelope tries for a cocky grin, but there’s blood on her lips now, like it’s welling up her throat, and Hope can feel herself breaking down. Penelope is  _ lying _ . She won’t survive this. 

“This is literally my worst fear. Do you know how badly this is going to fuck me up?”

“I won’t apologize for doing what I think needs to be done. You know that. It’s what you like about me, kinda.” 

Hope bites back a sob. “I fucking hate you.” 

“I know. But I don’t care if you hate me, I’m not gonna let you sacrifice yourself again. Now Hope, focus, please.” Penelope is drawing ancient symbols on the backs of Hope’s hands in her own fucking blood. “I’m going to give you all my power, okay?”

“That’s impossible, that’s not possible, Penelope, you can’t-“

“I can if I’m dying,” Penelope makes it sound like something so reasonable. “Sacrificial magic is common for the Mikaelsons, I’ve heard. You’re going to take all my magic and that’s how we’re going to win.” 

“You can’t die, Penelope, you can’t, I-”

“Shh. I’m going to give you my magic. I’m the most powerful witch here, and you’re the tribrid. And together, we’re gonna save everyone, okay?”

“By killing you?!”

“Oh, so now you see why sacrificing yourself is a bad plan?” Penelope laughs, hollow. “Lizzie?” 

Lizzie kneels down next to them and starts tying a cord around Penelope’s wrist and then Hope’s. As she does so, Josie tips Penelope’s head back and pours a potion down her throat, Penelope grimacing as she swallows. 

Hope looks at the twins in disbelief. “You knew about this?!”

Lizzie winces. “Sorry, Mikaelson. Park’s plan has a better chance of you both making it out of this alive.” 

“Has this spell ever been performed before?”

“Yes.”

“Successfully?”

Lizzie pauses. “Umm…”

“Hope, look at me.” Hope’s gaze falls back to Penelope like it always does. Lizzie and Josie step back, giving them space, but only Penelope exists for Hope right now, anyway. “I know we can do this. And am I ever wrong?” 

“No,” Hope says, her voice kind of garbled from her tears. 

“Exactly. So I’m going to give you my power, and then you’re gonna use all your badass Tribrid strength to help us win, okay?” Penelope’s face is rapidly losing color. She presses a piece of paper into Hope’s hands. “Now promise me you’ll keep reading the spell no matter what.” 

“I…”

“Promise me.”

“I can’t, I can’t, Penelope, don’t do this.”

“It’s already done.” Penelope’s eyes are set and certain and Hope sees with a horrible clarity what has to happen next.

“I.. promise.” Hope takes a deep, heaving breath. “Penelope, I, l-”

“Don’t.” Penelope’s voice trembles despite her attempts to keep it firm. “Don’t say it just because you think I’m going to die.”

“Okay.” Hope can feel the tears rolling down her face, but she doesn’t wipe them away. “But you know, right? You know?”

Penelope gives her that brilliant smile. “I know.”

Hope nods, holding up the paper, and starts to read. Their voices chant in unison, but as Hope’s strengthens, Penelope’s weakens. Hope can feel it, can feel Penelope’s magic infusing into her blood, twisting around her bones. But she can also feel Penelope’s life leaving her body and it takes everything Hope has to keep going, to keep reading as she feels Penelope bleeding out. She trusts Penelope. She does. But as Hope finishes reading, power flooding her body, Penelope slumps in her arms, lifeless. 

_ Isn’t this always how it ends?  _

Hope looks down at the fallen girl and tries to summon some hope, some belief that somehow this isn’t what it seems. She knows she needs to get up, she needs to go save the day, like she always has to. But Penelope is dead and Hope is all alone and the thought is more than she can bear.

She feels the darkness well up inside her, the broiling black ocean of suffering that she’s fought so hard to keep at bay, the horrible emotions that had been chased away by Penelope’s presence returning in full force- 

But what had Penelope said? That Hope wasn’t the bad thing, that she wasn’t evil. And if that was true, if Penelope was right- and wasn’t she always?- then Hope can do this. Hope can save her. 

Hope’s whole body shakes with emotion and with magic, more magic than any one person could ever hold and she-

She screams. 

Hope screams, and screams, and screams, and she can feel it all build in her bloodstream, the pain and the suffering and the absolute agony of everything, the fear and the love and all the feelings she has held in for so long, she feels it all expand in her chest until she’s vibrating with the power of it all, and then- 

It explodes from her, a blast of magic and power and energy stronger than anything she’s ever read about, expanding from her, across the school, knocking out every monster, every creature, every attacker, and ghost and pharaoh and beast, every one of them dropping to the ground as they’re hit with Hope and Penelope’s magic. It’s an all-encompassing wave of magic, an unbelievable burst of power, a massive display of strength and force, a nuclear explosion of sorcery. 

And then- 

Everything is silent.

Hope takes one shaky breath and then opens her eyes.

“Penelope?” Her voice is raw. She trails her fingers over the spot where Penelope’s injury had been; it’s completely healed, the skin smooth and unbroken. 

Hope feels something spark in her empty chest, just as Penelope wheezes a little. Her eyes flutter open. 

“Is it too soon to say I told you so?”

Hope feels all her breath leave her in a relieved exhale. She cradles Penelope’s head and holds her up so she can press their lips together messily, the relief so palpable she’s crying again. 

Penelope laughs in the kiss. “I told you. You always save the day. Sometimes you just need some help.” 

Hope is shaking still, tears flowing, unwilling to let go of Penelope for a single second. “I’m so mad at you, oh my god, I can’t believe you did that, I can’t-”

Penelope sobers, her gaze locking with Hope’s as she pulls back slightly. “I can handle you hating me. But not forgetting you, not losing you.”

“I can’t, I-”

Penelope takes Hope’s hand and places it on her chest so Hope can feel her heartbeat. “I’m okay, Hope. I’m alright. Breathe, please.”

Hope centers herself on Penelope’s heartbeat, concentrating on it and nothing else so she can avoid hyperventilating. When she’s calmer, calm enough, anyway, she finds Penelope slowly stroking her hair, waiting for Hope to come back to her. Hope inhales again.

“Thank you.” Her voice comes out hoarse. “For helping me. We have a lot to talk about, I think.” 

“We do. We should- ” Penelope pauses, propping herself up on her elbows and looking around, shocked. “Oh shit. How much magic did you use?”

Hope finally pulls herself out of the blinding orbit that is Penelope Park to see the results of their magic.

Around them, in every direction away from Salvatore, the land is completely leveled, the trees and rocks stripped away, every monster unconscious on the ground, every Salvatore student healed and standing, making their way back to the school. Hope can hear their distant shouts of victory.

Penelope struggles to sit up, her hands urgently tugging at Hope’s. 

“Hope, how did- did you do all of this?”

“I guess so,” Hope mutters, feeling dazed as the adrenaline starts to fade now that Penelope is safe and saved. 

“Hope,” Penelope repeats, her voice edging into panic, her hands roaming Hope’s body as if checking for injuries. Strangely, Hope notes, she can’t feel it. She can’t feel much of anything as the corners of her vision start to blur. “How much magic did you use? Are you okay??”

Hope tries to turn back to Penelope to reassure her, but even that movement feels like it’s too much energy, and for the first time Hope considers that she may have gone too far, that in her desperate despair, she may have pushed herself past her limits.

Penelope is still talking: “Fuck, Hope-”

Hope feels it all catch up with her, every ounce of magic depleted, her body exhausted- 

Her last thought before everything goes black is that she hopes Penelope catches her. 

Then she falls. 

* * *

Hope wakes up slowly. 

Her whole body aches in some strange and unfamiliar way; even opening her eyes seems like an impossible endeavor. She inhales, listening to the sounds around her as they filter in: the steady beeping of a monitor, the murmur and footsteps as people pass by the room, the gentle breathing of someone beside her.

Hope forces her eyes open. 

As her vision clears, she finds an exhausted-looking Penelope sitting next to her, slumped in a plastic chair. 

“Pen?” 

“Hope!” Penelope leans forward at the sound of Hope’s voice and grasps Hope’s hand with both of hers. “You dumb fuck.” Her voice is shaky with relief. 

Hope wheezes out a laugh, even though it makes the pain in her chest worse. “Hey.” 

Penelope surges even closer so their foreheads touch, pushing herself to Hope as if she’s afraid she’ll disappear. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispers, her eyelashes brushing Hope’s.

Hope feels Penelope’s tear hit her cheek. 

“I’m okay,” she murmurs back, even though she doesn’t really know if that’s true- her body feels like she’s been run over by a truck, then thrown off a cliff- Hope will say whatever it takes to get Penelope to stop crying. “It’s alright.”

“You’ve been unconscious for two weeks, Hope. I thought-” Penelope’s voice snags on a sob. “I thought-”

“Please,” Hope tries to scoff, but in her current condition it comes out more like a cough. “I’m a Mikaelson.” 

“Your aunt told me the same thing several times.” Penelope gives a watery chuckle, still sounding shaken. “But I just...”

“I’m okay, I promise.” Hope can’t get her arm to reach up and wipe away Penelope’s tears, so she settles for squeezing her hands. “I think that spell just took more out of me than I thought it would.” 

Penelope rubs at her eyes as she tries to regain her composure. “Well, you weren’t supposed to use all that power to knock out every monster and heal every person in a one mile radius.” 

Hope rubs her thumb over Penelope’s wrist, feeling the blood pumping steadily. “In my defense, your instructions were a little rushed.” She doesn’t mean to say it in a certain tone, but it does come out that way. 

Penelope holds her gaze. “I know it was selfish,” she says quietly.

Hope’s grip tightens a little as she remembers Penelope bleeding out in her arms. “It’s not that, it just was… god, Penelope, it was worse than I’d ever imagined. And I’d imagined it a lot. You know the people I care about getting hurt is my worst fear.” 

“I do. But I meant what I said. I won’t apologize for it, Hope. I couldn’t stand to lose you, either. If you can’t..” Penelope says the words woodenly, like she’s rehearsed them, “if you can’t forgive me for it, I understand.”

Hope frowns when she understands what Penelope is trying to say. Has she really spent the last two weeks believing Hope would hate her when she woke up? “Penelope, I was going to sacrifice myself for you and then you sacrificed yourself for me. Like, yes, I’m mad, but I’m not going to break up with you over it. That would be hypocritical.” 

Hope sees the tension slip from Penelope’s shoulders. “Hmm, good to hear,” Penelope says lightly, but not entirely able to hide the relief in her tone. “Plus, you can’t really break up with me when we never were officially dating.”

Hope has to break eye contact and look up at the ceiling to try to control her blush. “I mean… we could be.”

Penelope’s fingers stutter to a stop for only a second before she returns to gently tracing Hope’s palms. “Could be what?”

“You know.”

“I really don’t.” 

“Penelope.”

“Hope.”

Hope gives Penelope a pleading look. “You’re really going to make me say it?” 

Penelope is biting her lip to hide a smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hope attempts a pout. “I almost died, you know.”

“That’s not going to work on me.”

Hope goes for the secret weapon: “Please, baby?”

Penelope’s mouth drops open and her cheeks flush, just slightly. “Oh my god. That’s not fair.”

“I learned from the best,” Hope says with a shrug. 

Penelope is smirking openly now and the sight makes Hope’s heart rate pick up. “I actually had a really romantic way I was going to ask you. Are you sure you’d rather I just do it here in a hospital when neither of us has showered for days and you can’t even walk?”

And Hope really blames whatever pain medication they have her on, because instead of replying with something sarcastic, she just opens her damn mouth and says, “I don’t want to wait any longer to be your girlfriend.” 

Penelope blinks. “You can’t say stuff like that when I can’t even kiss you.”

“Who said you couldn’t?”

Very, very carefully, Penelope leans over the safety rail of the bed, pausing just before their lips touch, Hope’s eyes already closed in anticipation. “Hope Mikaelson,” she whispers, “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

The panic Hope feels at this mention of commitment is negligible compared to the burst of happiest she feels. All her mental self-preservation methods seem to just fall away when Penelope is involved. “Yeah. Yes. Please. I- yes.” 

Penelope surges closer to brush her lips against Hope’s, keeping the kiss light. When she pulls away and settles back down in the chair, Hope is only half able to contain her whine of disapproval.

“Sorry babe, you’re supposed to be resting.”

“You won’t break the rules for your girlfriend?” 

Penelope looks at her with so much reverence, Hope feels like she could melt away. “Nope. Can’t impede your recovery.” 

Hope rolls her eyes, because she knows Penelope really just wants her to beg. “You’re the worst.”

Penelope’s unapologetic shrug probably shouldn’t fill Hope with this much fondness. “You’re the one who wanted to be my girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s just because I-” Hope catches herself, hovering on the brink of admitting it all. She closes her mouth and then opens it again.

“It’s okay,” Penelope says softly, and Hope can see that Penelope means it, that it’s really okay if Hope can’t say it. That Penelope really would wait, that she would understand if Hope’s fears meant she could never say it.

But they’ve both been through so much, and if this year has proved anything to Hope, it’s that the people she loves can get hurt, but maybe it’s not Hope’s fault. Maybe Hope can save the people she loves, maybe it’s okay, after all. 

So Hope listens to Penelope’s heartbeat, matching her breathing to it, and draws up her courage. “Because I-” Hope swallows past her fear, “I’m… I’m in love with you.”

In her peripheral vision, Hope sees Penelope freeze. 

Hope adds on quickly, “I mean, you already know that, anyway, so…. yeah.” 

Penelope nods, a smile spreading across her face. “Mhm. Yup. Absolutely.” 

“Alright, okay, don’t make it a big deal.”

“I’m not, I’m not!” Penelope’s grin gets even wider, if possible. She scoots closer to Hope’s hospital bed and hops the barrier so she can crawl in.

“I thought I was supposed to be resting,” Hope comments mildly, betraying her words by scooting over so that Penelope can snuggle next to her, sliding her arm under Hope’s head. 

“I’m sure the nurse will understand that you wanna be in bed with the woman you loveeeee,” Penelope sing-songs, and Hope buries her face in Penelope’s shoulder to hide her blush, but also because she’s desperate for any touch from Penelope. 

“Shut up. Don’t make fun of me.” 

“Honestly, I was prepared to wait another two or three years for you to say it, so this is really an unexpected surprise.”

Hope pokes Penelope in the side, making her squirm. “You’re an asshole.”

Penelope laughs as she peppers Hope’s face with kisses. “An asshole that you’re in love with?”

“Ugh. Yes, okay? Yes.” Hope silences Penelope by kissing her. 

Hope kisses her and it’s different, Penelope tastes different, sweeter and somehow even better than ever before because now when they kiss, Hope knows that she loves Penelope and Penelope loves her and she’s honestly always thought she was too cool to think of sex as like, ‘making love’ or whatever, but she can concede that there is something wholly magical and life-altering about touching Penelope with this new knowledge in mind, about thinking  _ oh god, I love this _ , and not having to worry that somehow Penelope might overhear her thoughts.

Penelope pulls back slowly, her bright eyes sparkling. “I love you too, Hope.” 

And Hope knew that already, what with Penelope almost dying for her and all, but hearing it out loud makes her feel warm all over, something light and fluttery swirling in her stomach. 

“You know how much I love you?”

Hearing it again only makes the warm feeling increase, and Hope is glad she’s already lying down, because otherwise she doesn’t know if she’d be able to stay standing. “How much?” 

“Enough to unplug your heart monitor so the nurse doesn’t get alerted when your heartbeat starts spiking.”

Hope grins, letting her happiness show through. “Oh? Why would my heartbeat be spiking?”

Penelope’s smile turns wicked. “I’ll show you.”

Hope isn’t supposed to be using magic, but she does a quick spell to lock the door, just in case. 

* * *

Coincidently, Hope is released from the hospital the day before Salvatore’s graduation. 

Rather than go straight to bed as instructed, Hope makes her way down the familiar corridor to Penelope’s room. Somehow Penelope is already waiting for her, leaning in the doorway. Hope almost falters at the view; it’s been a long few weeks since Hope’s been in Penelope’s bed and the sight of Penelope in her pajamas takes Hope’s breath away.

“Hey beautiful,” Penelope says, pulling Hope closer as soon as she’s within reach. “I thought you were supposed to be in your room, resting.”

“Hmm,” Hope hums as she relaxes into Penelope’s arms, kissing her softly. “My girlfriend is kind of a rule breaker and I think she’s been a bad influence on me.” 

Penelope laughs, moving down to press kisses to Hope’s jawline and throat. “Is that so? I don’t know, I’ve heard you both saved the school.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling people?” Hope's voice is a little breathy as she basks under the attention. “Well, it’s my last night as a student at this school we saved, so I’d like to spend it with you.” 

“That is incredibly cheesy,” Penelope informs her, even as she tugs Hope into her room. 

“What, you’re the only one who’s allowed to have bad lines? Plus, I can see you’re blushing.” 

Penelope drops onto the bed and scoffs. “Whatever. Get over here.” 

Hope laughs and follows Penelope into bed, snuggling close to watch a movie and relax, just basking in each other’s presence. 

Much later in the night, Hope wakes up to find the laptop put away and the lights off, Penelope spooning her from behind and gently tracing along her skin.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, but you look very cute when you sleep, so it’s fine.” Hope can feel Penelope smiling behind her. Hope burrows deeper into the sheets and sighs, trying to focus on the comfort as she looks out of Penelope’s window. 

But of course, Penelope always has an uncanny sense of when Hope is worrying. 

“Are you sad about tomorrow?” Penelope asks in the dark, her voice empty of judgement. 

“A little,” Hope admits. “Salvatore has been my home for a long time. It’s sad to think that it’s ending.”

“Not ending.” Penelope shuffles closer. “Just changing. Not so bad.”

“Everything is changing,” Hope says, and she can’t help the little bit of fear in her voice. Normally she wouldn’t say anything out loud about it, but here in this safe space, in the dark, in Penelope’s arms, she whispers: “Will you be here while it does?”

“As long as you want me to be,” Penelope says honestly, and Hope can hear the unsaid words beneath it, that maybe one day Hope won’t want her anymore.

“I’ll always want you to be,” Hope murmurs. 

Penelope presses a kiss to the back of Hope’s neck. “That’s super gay, babe.” 

Hope makes an affronted noise and rolls over to pin Penelope to the bed. “Don’t ruin the moment!”

“Alright, alright.” Penelope laughs into the kiss, but her tone is solemn and full of promise when she replies: “Then I’ll always be with you, Hope.” 

“That’s super gay,” Hope informs her, and that’s how she spends her last night as a student at Salvatore: in bed with Penelope, laughing and kissing and making plans for the future. 

* * *

“I’m gonna be honest.” MG pushes between Hope and Penelope, slinging an arm over each of their shoulders. “I didn’t really think you’d graduate, Peez.”

Penelope laughs as Hope shoves MG off. “Me?! I’ll be shocked if we see you up there next year, buddy. I’ve seen those pre-calc grades.” 

MG makes a show of looking wounded before he laughs and bounds off to join the audience, leaving Hope and Penelope to walk hand in hand toward the stage where the graduating class is milling about, adjusting their graduation gowns and looking for their families in the crowd. 

Hope can feel Penelope’s pace slow the closer they get. She pauses, tugging Penelope to a stop. 

“Are you okay?”

Penelope raises her eyebrows, probably about to make a snide comment, but Hope gives her a look of her own and Penelope sighs instead. 

“My parents aren’t coming.” She looks off toward the stage, her eyes hard. “I don’t… I don’t know why I’m disappointed. I don’t want to see them, anyway. And yet…” 

Hope squeezes her hand gently. “Fuck them. You don’t need them.” 

“No?” Penelope turns to Hope with her eyebrows raised again, this time in amusement, the pain in her eyes fading. 

“No. I mean, one day we’ll find your siblings. But right now… you’ve got better family than your shitty parents.” Hope tugs Penelope closer to the stage and points to the parental seating section. 

In the section where Penelope’s parents and siblings should ostensibly be sitting, Josie, Lizzie, and MG are there instead, with the trio of little girls that Penelope takes care of sitting on their laps, waving. 

Penelope’s steps falter and she comes to a stop in the middle of the lawn. Hope looks at her nervously; Penelope has one hand over her mouth as she takes in the scene. 

Hope waits, fiddling nervously with the tassel on her cap. “... Penelope?”

Penelope doesn’t look away. “Did you do this?” 

“Um..” Hope runs a hand through her hair. “Yes? I just figured if your parents weren’t going to show, your friends could be there, because, like, they’re your family too? It seemed like it might be too much if it was  _ my _ relatives sitting there, I guess, and so I just thought-”

“Hope.”

Hope gulps. “Yes?”

Penelope grabs her by the front of her graduation gown and pulls her into a deep kiss that makes Hope feel lightheaded. 

Penelope pulls back, breathless. “I love you, Hope Mikaelson, but I don’t know how I feel about the implication that Lizzie is my family.” 

Hope is still trying to catch her breath from the kiss. “You guys secretly enjoy being bitchy with each other, I just know it.” 

“Whatever,” Penelope says, surreptitiously wiping a stray tear. “Thank you, Hope. Really.” 

They embrace for a moment, then Penelope pulls away and straightens her shoulders. “Alright, let’s graduate already.”

When they climb onto the stage, Penelope follows Hope to her seating assignment. 

Hope looks at her with amusement. 

“Penelope, we’re supposed to be in alphabetical order.” 

Penelope shrugs, her gown sliding down one shoulder and exposing her collarbones to Hope’s watchful eye. “I never followed this school’s rules while I attended it, why would I start now?” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

“Eh.” Penelope shrugs. “You love it though.” 

Hope doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I do.”

Penelope’s smile could light up whole cities. 

-

Alaric and Caroline call their names one by one to receive their diplomas. 

Penelope wolf whistles when Hope’s name is called, joining in with Hope’s aunts and uncles in cheering, and Hope made sure to give the three girls in Penelope’s section the loudest noise makers possible for when they call Penelope’s name. 

When it’s done, the graduating class lets out a cheer, throwing their caps in the air and then flooding down the stairs to meet their friends and family to celebrate. 

Penelope hesitates at the edge of the stairs, looking out at their fellow graduates. 

“You know,” she said conversationally, “I don’t really believe in happy endings.” 

Hope takes her hand. 

“Me neither.” She hesitates, inhaling the sweet May air and concentrating on the feel of Penelope’s hand in her own. “Good thing this isn’t an ending, huh?” 

“You’re right, it’s really more of a-”

“If you say it’s a new beginning, I will shove you off this stage.” 

Penelope pouts for a moment before she laughs, tugging Hope with her down the stairs, and just like that, they’ve graduated from Salvatore Boarding School for the Young & Gifted.

* * *

This is the only graduation afterparty Hope’s ever been to, but in her opinion it’s the best one there’s ever been. 

All around the table are the people Hope cares about most. 

Nik is sitting on Penelope’s lap and they’re having a deep conversation that only the two of them understand. Freya and Keelin are there and Josie and Lizzie are across from her with Landon and MG and Rafael and Alaric, everyone talking and enjoying the day and the whole scene is glowing from the warm afternoon sun and Hope is  _ happy. _

Tomorrow they will all help move Hope into her new apartment in Mystic Falls, squabbling over who carries which boxes and Penelope doing no work at all, except to inform Lizzie that if she’s going to be nosey and look through her things, then she can’t complain when she finds the strap on, and later Hope will sit down with Alaric to talk about Hope teaching a class or two at Salvatore on offensive magic, and in a few weeks Hope and Penelope will drive to Georgetown to see the campus together. 

She has a  _ future _ . And yeah, that’s terrifying and unknown and full of uncertainty, but Hope is starting to think that maybe it will all be worth it. And Hope doesn’t really believe in heaven or hell, but for a moment she lets herself believe her parents are out there watching her, and she hopes they know she’s happy, that she’s trying to be happy. She hopes they find peace.

Hope leans her head on Penelope’s shoulder, Penelope’s hand automatically coming up to card through her hair, and sighs in contentment. She lets her eyes flutter shut for just a moment, secure in the warmth of the moment. 

Only a moment, of course, because a second later, there’s a loud BOOM, and just where the science building is, a plume of flames bursts over the horizon. 

Everyone turns to look. Hope sighs. 

“Again?” MG asks despondently. “We just finished rebuilding!” 

Alyssa looks up from her phone. “Someone just tweeted that there’s a Chimera in the quad.” She pauses, scrolling further. “Oh. Multiple Chimeras. A pack of Chimera?” 

“I think it would be a pride of Chimera. Cause they’re half lion. Or a tribe of Chimera, cause they’re half goat?” Kaleb whips out his phone to google something. 

“Oh my god.” Lizzie puts her head down on the table. “I hate this school.” 

Josie pats her back sympathetically. 

“We’ll go get the swords and nets?” Landon asks, Rafael already jogging off towards the shed with the weapons. 

“It seems like you kids have this covered, so we’ll just see you tomorrow, okay sweetie?” Keelin buckles Nik into his stroller while Freya hugs Hope and Penelope goodbye after making Penelope promise to come visit over the summer. Penelope turns back to her girlfriend once they’ve left. 

“So…”

“So, I guess we should probably go deal with that..” Hope says reluctantly.

Penelope eyes the column of smoke with distaste. “So this is what life with you is always gonna be like, huh? Charging headfirst into whatever danger presents itself?” 

“Yeah, pretty much. Facing darkness is kind of my thing.” 

Penelope sighs loudly, standing up and removing her earrings before retaking Hope’s hand. “Alright, but after we defeat today’s Big Bad, you’re taking me on a real date, okay?”

And Hope thinks maybe she’ll never have a normal life, but with Penelope by her side, maybe she can find a median, something in the gray area between supernatural hero and totally ordinary person. Maybe she can learn to balance her need to protect others and still protect herself. Maybe she can let herself be happy, some of the time. 

“Deal. But I get to drive.” 

“We get it, you think you’re the t-”

Hope kisses Penelope to shut her up, but also because she can, because she loves her, because she isn’t afraid.

Lizzie coughs loudly. “Okay, lovebirds, we get it. Can we please, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can we please go save the school now? Again?”

“Ugh, fine.” Penelope pulls back reluctantly. “But you’re not siphoning from me, Saltzman.” 

“As if I would want to,” Lizzie shoots back, and Hope can’t help but smile because she knows their bickering is just for show and that they’re becoming friends because they’re both so important to Hope. 

Hope looks around at everyone, joking and laughing with each other as they prepare to fight together, and she is so full of happiness, she almost can’t believe it. She leans in for one more kiss, just to reassure herself that this is all real. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Penelope says, with her trademark smirk. 

For a moment, the sun hints the glass on the table in such a way that the space around the two of them sparkles with light, and Penelope doesn’t believe in happy endings and Hope doesn’t believe in fate, so rather than worry about the events that got them to here or panic about what could happen in the future, Hope lets herself absorb the moment, this single perfect shining slice of life. Penelope is holding her hand and Hope can feel the sparks of magic running between them, intertwined and connected, the two most powerful witches at the school. Hope is no longer alone. 

And then the sun shifts and everything is normal again, Penelope still by her side. Hope smiles. 

Hand in hand, they run towards the future together. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

_ I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, _

_and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. _

_ [...] That is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way. _

* * *

Hope is in trouble. 

Not from the pack of draugr that she’s fighting; there are only twelve of them and Hope has already taken care of five. 

No, Hope is in trouble because she promised her wife she would be home in time for Thanksgiving dinner and she’s running  _ way _ behind. 

It’s just that tracking down the creatures had taken slightly more time than Hope anticipated. As a consequence, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and knows exactly what that must mean. Hope pushes the fifth corpse away and taps the device at her ear to answer the call. 

“Hi baby.” 

So maybe she’s using a pet name because she knows Penelope likes them and she needs all the brownie points she can get right now. 

One of the draugr comes at her from the left and Hope spins to avoid it, then smashes her elbow into his head, knocking it down. 

“Don’t ‘hi baby’ me!” Penelope is using her stern tone, but Hope still can’t help smiling at the sound of her wife’s voice. “You promised you’d be home by 8.”

“And I will be!” Hope says, lying through her teeth. She slices through the seventh draugr’s arm and jumps back quickly to avoid getting blood on her blouse. 

“Ahuh. What time is it right now, Hope?” 

Hope winces a little. “Um… like 7-ish?” 

“It’s 7:43pm, Mikaelson.”

Hope winces more. “It’s Mikaelson _ -Park _ , actually.” 

Penelope makes a disgruntled noise. “First of all, it’s Park-Mikaelson,”

“I never actually agreed to have your name go first!” Hope protests while she slides through the mud and uses a 17th-century cursed sword to cut through the next draugr. 

“That’s not how I remember it.” 

“Getting me to say yes while you were three knuckles deep in me is a coerced confession at best and would never hold up in a court of law.” 

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Hope can hear the smile in Penelope’s voice. “You can’t be late for this. You swore you wouldn’t leave me alone with these people after I walked in on Lizzie and that girl in our guest bathroom three years ago.” 

Hope finishes off the ninth monster and pauses to catch her breath. “‘These people’ are our closest friends! Our family! And it’s not like Lizzie’s never walked in on us!” 

Penelope will not be dissuaded. “The point remains. You promised! And frankly, you still owe me, because you were-“

“Don’t say it,” Hope warns.

“-you were late for our  _ wedding _ !”

“Okay, no.” Hope knocks the next beast back with a spell so she can concentrate on the discussion, which they’ve had many, many times. Really, at this point, debating is a sort of foreplay for them. “We were literally saving the world!”

“Yes, and while you and MG were wasting time dealing with that cursed gemstone, Josie, Kaleb, and I closed the portal and  _ still _ made it back before the start of the ceremony.” 

“I cannot believe you won’t let this go.” Hope is lucky the swamp she’s in is dark enough to hide her stupid grin. She cuts off the head of the second to last monster with one swipe. 

Penelope is laughing softly into the phone. “It’s 7:48, Hope Park-Mikaelson! You better be home in the next twelve minutes. Or I’ll make you sit next to Landon.”

Hope gasps theatrically. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think we both know I would,” Penelope says primly, and then she hangs up the phone just as Hope dispatches the final draugr. 

The phone rings again. It’s Penelope.

“Also, I love you. Do not show up to dinner in bloodstained clothes. You have eleven minutes. Bye!” 

Hope looks down at her mud and blood stained clothes, then looks at the time on her phone, then looks at the bodies littered at her feet. She sighs. 

-

A few quick spells later, Hope jogs in the back door of their kitchen, smoothing out her blouse and wiping the last stray smear of blood off her knuckles. 

She glances at her watch. It’s 8:01pm. 

“Fuck.” 

“Well, well, well. The great Hope Park-Mikaelson makes an appearance.” 

Hope looks up to see her wife leaning against their kitchen island, waiting for her. She is so effortlessly beautiful, Hope feels her breath catch. 

Penelope has her arms crossed and appears to be trying to look stern, but it’s kind of ruined by the way she grabs Hope by the belt loops as soon as she’s within arms reach and pulls her closer, their foreheads brushing. 

Hope grins. “Hey baby.” 

Penelope is wearing that soft oversized sweater that she knows Hope loves and she’s framed by the lighting like a famous work of art. Hope has traveled the world fighting creatures that shouldn’t exist and seeing every wonder from many dimensions, but it’s the scene before her that leaves her weak in the knees. 

Before Penelope can get any more scolding in, Hope crowds her against the counter to kiss her thoroughly, smearing her immaculate lipstick and running her hands through her hair just for good measure.

“Don’t think this gets you out of trouble for being late,” Penelope murmurs, breathless and a little dazed from the kissing, even after ten years. 

“I’m sure you can think of a way for me to make it up to you.”

Penelope chuckles. “I have a few ideas.” 

Hope tries to slide her hands down Penelope’s thighs, but Penelope bats them away. 

“Nope. We could’ve had time for that earlier, but alas...” 

“Maybe later?”

Penelope licks her lips. “Definitely later.” For now, Hope rests her hands on the small of Penelope’s back and holds her close, sinking into the embrace. 

Penelope sighs in content, her arms wrapping around Hope’s shoulders and tucking her face against Hope’s throat so her words come out muffled. “Also, I mayyy have promised Caroline Jr. that you would tell her the story of when we forged peace between the Kitsune and Nemean Lions, so be ready for that.”

Hope pulls back to give her wife a look. “You just like to tell that story because you got to wield the sword of fate.” 

“Well, if you’d been here  _ on time  _ you could’ve decided which tale to tell!” 

Hope shakes her head in exasperated fondness, leaning forward for another kiss. “You’re insufferable.” 

Penelope shrugs, unrepentant as she steals another kiss. “You’re the one who married me.”

“Pretty sure  _ you  _ married  _ me _ .” 

Who proposed continues to be a subject for debate, given that Penelope was going to propose that night and Hope beat her to it, but shortly thereafter, there was a whole debacle with a time lord and when they later repeated the day, Penelope proposed first. 

Regardless, they are married now, tied together permanently. Penelope wears a Mikaelson family ring on her left hand and Hope has a matching one and they celebrate their anniversary every year at the beach. Penelope accompanies Hope to visit her parents’ graves every year and Hope was the one who encouraged Penelope every step of the way until she was reunited with her siblings. They live in a little house in Virginia together and Penelope writes novels and Hope teaches classes at Salvatore when they’re not off saving the world from every manner of supernatural disaster. And on the other side of the kitchen door are Hope’s family and friends,  _ their _ family and friends, all part of the life that she and Penelope have built together. 

A life where Hope can use her powers to protect people and yet still have a life of her own. A life where Penelope doesn’t have to hide her vulnerabilities. A life where Hope knows she belongs. And in a moment, they will join everyone for dinner. Hope will take her place at the head of the table, right next to Penelope, their hands connected under the table, the rest of their friends and family surrounding them. 

And they will laugh and talk and enjoy each others’ company, and maybe, maybe when the moment is right, they’ll tell everyone about the adoption paperwork. 

But there’s no rush. The rest of Hope’s life stretches out before her, and she’s actually looking forward to it, hopeful for everything to come. It’s such a reversal of how things used to be; it’s almost unbelievable, how much everything has changed. There’s no way Hope could’ve seen all the drama at Salvatore ending like this. At the thought, she laughs to herself, shaking her head. 

Penelope pauses at the door to the living room, looking back at her, and Hope feels a wave of love for her wife so strong, she’s dizzy with it. “What?”

Hope knows she’s gazing at Penelope with pure adoration, but she doesn’t mind. “Nothing. I just… I love you.” 

It will always be difficult for her to say- she’s not like Penelope, who says it every morning when she leaves for work and writes it at the bottom of their grocery lists and calls it out in passing when Hope does something that makes her laugh. 

No, Hope’s past trauma is not so easily erased. And there’s still bad nights and hard times and dark days. There are still nights when Hope wakes up shaking from a nightmare, and bitter arguments that are no one’s fault and there are days when things go wrong and Penelope slips the cold, emotionless persona that she uses as a shield, and terrible times that come out of nowhere. 

But through it all, they are at each other’s side. For every nightmare Hope has, there is Penelope to hold her close and remind her that they are alive and okay. When Penelope drops into head-bitch mode to protect herself, Hope is there to ease her out of it, to remind her it’s okay to be vulnerable. And there are terrible times, but they weather through them together, Hope and Penelope, side by side.

Because Hope understands now. She understands that she doesn’t have to carry her burden alone, that she can save lives and still spare her own, that she is not evil, that she is not bad for loving Penelope and letting Penelope love her back. Hope is no longer that eighteen year old who was afraid to care, afraid to  _ love _ , and so when she says “I love you” to Penelope, she means much more than that.

She means “thank you for loving me” and she means “my life is better because you are a part of it” and she means “I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you as happy as you make me” and she means “please never leave me” and she means “I never thought I’d be this lucky”. 

And most of all, Hope means “I know that in life there are no truly happy endings, but my ending is happiest with you in it”.

She means all of this, but out loud, Hope just says “I love you” because she trusts Penelope will understand what she really means. 

And her wife smiles, her eyes sparkling like they do when she’s truly happy, and she winks at Hope. 

“I know,” Penelope replies simply. 

And she does.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening lines for part four from October by Louise Glück. Opening lines for the epilogue from The Beatrice Letters by Lemony Snicket.
> 
> This is the longest piece I’ve ever written and frankly? i think henelope deserves it. 
> 
> Ultimately, I wanted this story to be about two young women who fall in love and make each other stronger because of that love. I hope I did justice to what I believe could’ve been an incredible canon pairing. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, this is a rare ship and I really am grateful for each and every comment and kudos. I am astounded that this many people have read it and I’m honored that y’all took the time. My ko-fi is linked below if anyone wants to donate, but it’s not necessary. Tell your friends to read this fic, tell your friends to stop sleeping on henelope, etc. i know it will never get as many kudos as the posie fics but a girl can dream.
> 
> More than anything, please comment! please! i like hearing what you think! unless it's negative, in which case, i don't need to hear it.
> 
> This will likely not be my last work for these two, I’ve already got like twelve other henelope aus in my drafts, but we’ll see what the rest of 2020 brings. Please vote [HERE](https://linkto.run/p/T50VXKZ4) for what I should work on next (although I make no promises). 
> 
> Thank you all for reading. henelope endgame in my heart. 
> 
> And lastly? Ms. Plec, if you’re reading this: bring back Penelope and all will be forgiven.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr -> hopepenelope.tumblr.com  
my ko-fi -> [ko fi](https://ko-fi.com/problematiclesbian)


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